Through a Mirror, Darkly
by Jander Panell
Summary: They were two pairs from two worlds. They might have appeared the same, but they thought they were too different to find any common ground. Until they were forced to work together. Zemyx, Dexion
1. We Begin with Two Worlds

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Through a Mirror, Darkly

(AKA, "unoriginal title is unoriginal")

__

They were two pairs from two worlds. They might have appeared the same, but they thought they were too different to find any common ground. Until they were forced to work together. Zemyx, Dexion

Warnings: Yaoi, graphic scenes abuse, S&M, seme!Zexion and uke!Zexion, seme!Demyx and uke!Demyx (...don't ask), a fat load of weirdness and craziness overall. Please don't take any of this shit seriously.

Okay, I did say that I was going to leave behind fanfiction...but in retrospect, I think that announcement was a tad premature. I do like writing fanfiction and the release of _Birth by Sleep _has really rejuvenated my interest in the KH fandom (don't start me rhapsodizing on how amazing BBS is and how Aqua is the best KH character ever...), but what bothered me all along was that I took it too seriously. I was thinking of myself as a fanfiction writer first, and an original writer second, which is...not so good. Definitely, fanfiction isn't "srs bznz" to me anymore; it's just something I do for a little bit of fun. Mostly when I'm feeling pooped about my original projects...such as this horrible novel that I just can't plan, and now I'm wondering if I even want to write it at all. ARRRGH. So now you get this cracky piece of fanfic.

It indeed is quite cracky, though it does tend to masquerade as something more serious and DEEEEP. Don't be fooled at all, though. I wrote this for shits and giggles, because I like the idea of different permutations of different characters meeting each other, and I like exploring different ways of writing the same relationships. I do ship Zemyx with Zexion on bottom, but writing Zexion as dominant is also quite a bit of fun even though I don't like it as much.

This story will be only ten chapters long and not much happens, unlike the other epic and involved projects (epic and involved fanfic? PFFFT) that I always start and putter out on. And no, this is not a sign that I'm giving up on _Tainted. _But after that story, I'll never write a longfic again. So deal with this short crackfic. =)

* * *

1. We Begin with Two Worlds

"Z-Zexion--" groaned Demyx, his voice a tiny whimper in the darkness.

"Quiet," Zexion said, raising a hand to shut Demyx up even though he knew the other couldn't see it, on account of being blindfolded. In the other hand he clutched a pair of belts, dangling loosely like dead snakes. Right now, he had his head tilted to the side and was examining his lover positioned exactly as Zexion had ordered him when the two had retreated together to Zexion's quarters earlier that night--lying on his back, his legs spread and hands clasped above his head.

Zexion liked nothing more than seeing his lover like this. Helpless and trembling, his perfect body ready for Zexion's taking. The other Thirteenth Order members, and Demyx himself, often liked to call Zexion a sadist, which Zexion supposed did have a grain of truth. But he swept his eyes over the perfectly smooth expanse of Demyx's tanned chest and stomach, down to his growing erection, and let a truly evil smirk--the kind that without fail would always incite a frightened squeak from Demyx--cross his face.

__

If I'm a sadist, then you're a masochist.

"So, Demyx," Zexion whispered, climbing on to the bed so that he was straddling Demyx; the blonde Nobody's breathing hitched in barely concealed excitement. "You seem awfully..._eager_...today, don't you?"

Demyx's only response was an inarticulate whine. Zexion sighed and ran a hand through his hair, all for theatricality (rather pointless, since Demyx was blindfolded), before bringing the hand down in a hard slap on Demyx's thigh.

His smirk grew as Demyx gasped sharply and tried squirming away. Zexion tightened his knees around Demyx's waist, trapping him. "Now, now," he whispered. "You can speak, can't you? Then speak when I ask you a question."

"Y...yeah, okay," Demyx said contritely, a blush spreading across his cheeks. Oh, his naive little lover could be so..._cute. _The thought rather struck Zexion as odd, since he usually didn't find "cuteness" all that appealing. He preferred the dark and grotesque--at least that was a realistic representation of the way the world was.

But he liked Demyx because he liked _tainting _him. The younger Nobody was so innocent and naive, brimming with a bubbly joy and a wide-eyed naivete that Zexion had rarely seen in any of the devastated worlds in which the Order now worked. It was relieving, in a way, to see someone who could still maintain such purity in such a ruined universe--and a Nobody, at that. And it was even more relieving to be able to destroy and defile that purity night after night.

Though he liked making Demyx submit to him in the end, he could admire how Demyx stubbornly clung to his sense of self through it all. Zexion cursed him and bound him and beat him and stabbed him and burned him and took him against his will, yet none of his actions seemed to dent Demyx's spirits in the slightest. The boy was always so cheerful in the mornings, playing his sitar without a care for the world and goofing off during the missions. Almost as if Zexion had never happened to him at all. Zexion didn't think he could enjoy Demyx as much if the younger Nobody _had _actually broken.

It was a bit sad when he thought about it. How utterly dependent on Demyx he'd become. He supposed that Demyx was the only thing keeping him sane, keeping him from drifting into the bleak and listless ennui his comrades had fallen into. It couldn't have been more than a year and a half ago that the Thirteenth Order had actually accomplished their goal--defeated that pesky silver-haired Keyblade master and finished Kingdom Hearts--yet they all felt like they'd done nothing. Kingdom Hearts, even completed, had refused to grant _them_ the completion they all so strongly desired. The Superior was undaunted and continued making the Order run as usual, performing missions and unleashing darkness over world after world. There was no point in their missions and they all knew it, no matter how many times the Superior argued that the only reason they didn't have their hearts was because they had displeased Kingdom Hearts somehow by not gathering strong enough hearts. This was dubious logic at best, but no one dared question the Superior. So the Order members drifted about like empty shells, mere ghosts of ghosts, performing their tasks by rote in a universe that had increasingly few worlds left to drown in darkness.

Zexion had Demyx to thank for preventing his descent into madness and boredom--he could have ended up like Vexen and Marluxia, for instance, which wasn't an appealing thought in the slightest. All they did was vegetate side-by-side in either Vexen's falling-apart lab or Marluxia's dying garden, unless the Superior gave them missions. If it hadn't been for Demyx's unfailing brightness and light and innocence, and the chance to dominate and toy with him during the nights, Zexion could have easily joined those two.

"Z...Zexion?" Demyx whispered. He sounded a little more nervous than usual, maybe because he was afraid that Zexion would hit him again. Zexion smiled and ran a hand through Demyx's hair, reveling in its silky softness.

"See? You _can _talk somewhat articulately. Use that ability well."

"Oh--aww, c'mon, the last thing you should be thinking about now is how well I t-talk--eek!" Demyx cried out as Zexion leaned forward and began tying one of the belts around Demyx's wrists, outstretched above his head. The tough leather was a little harder to work with than rope or handkerchiefs, but it was worth it for the way Demyx whimpered and flinched as the cold metal of the buckle rubbed against and the rough leather chafed against his skin.

Zexion smiled, watching Demyx writhe in his bonds. Of course it was all for show; Demyx would never think of _actually _resisting, in a way that mattered. He bent down and pressed his lips against Demyx's, tasting the blonde's unique presence of sea salt mixed with something sweet, almost cloyingly so. If he thought too hard, he could almost connect Demyx's flavor with...with the old life, before he lost his heart, before--

But he didn't think about it. No. All that mattered to him now was Demyx, his eager and blushing and trembling and sweat-laced little angel, waiting for Zexion to brutalize him as he did every night. And Demyx hadn't left him yet. That was the most brilliant, the most beautiful part of it all. He'd given Demyx every reason to leave, but...but Demyx always chose to stay with him, no matter what. Sometimes, during their few arguments, he would furiously shout for Demyx to leave him and choose someone who actually _cared _about him.

"_But Zexion," _Demyx would reply, every time, blinking in that innocent way that would break Zexion's heart if he had one, "_you _do _care about me."_

Well, fine then. If Demyx thought so, then...then Zexion wouldn't protest. He should be grateful for what he had, instead of trying to question it. Never look a gift horse in the mouth...

Demyx started returning his kiss, lifting his head and parting his lips to entice Zexion to deepen it. Zexion wouldn't fall for such an obvious attempt, of course, and he pulled away, patting Demyx reassuringly on the shoulder as he did so.

But enough with gentleness. That wasn't what either of them had come here for. Zexion, smirking again reached between Demyx's legs and delivered his throbbing arousal a firm squeeze. In an instant, Demyx unleashed a deep moan and threw his head back, his neck arching-

And perfectly exposed. Reacting quickly, Zexion bent down and bit down, hard, right where Demyx's neck met his shoulder. Demyx's moan deepened and he dug his fingers into the sheets, trying to anchor himself on something. Zexion ignored Demyx's reaction, forcing him still by squeezing the smaller Nobody's waist and digging his teeth into Demyx's smooth soft skin until he tasted the bitter tang of blood.

He lapped at the blood, sucking it with perverse pleasure, while Demyx whimpered and moan and jerked with his every motion. That boy...he was just so wonderfully responsive.

"Mm--ahh--oh Zexion, oh Zexion," gasped Demyx, his face flushed, saliva dripping down his chin. He had never looked more beautiful. "Oh Zexion, I love you, I love you--"

Though he had no heart with which to truly understand those words, Zexion nonetheless felt a tremor of--_something_--inside the hollow space in his chest. A thrill, he supposed. "Ah, and quite right you are," he whispered, wiping the blood from his mouth. "I love you too."

"Zexion," breathed Demyx, his voice ragged with ecstasy.

Smiling--for real now, not a smirk--Zexion reached into the pocket of his coat, and produced a leather-wrapped package of long thin metal acupuncture needles. They were used for stimulating relaxation and relieving pain--

If placed in the right areas. Placed wrongly, well...that was something altogether more interesting, and exciting. One could stimulate and provide pain at the same time, if one knew what he was doing.

And Zexion most assuredly did.

* * *

Demyx was humming a very annoying song.

"That's _enough," _Zexion growled. "You'e giving me a headache."

"Oh, sorry," Demyx said in a tone implying the exact opposite. He gazed out the library windows again, at the perpetually dark sky of The World That Never Was, and resumed humming the annoying song. "_Tell them how I am defying gravity, I'm flying high, defying--"_

"Enough!" Zexion had to resist the urge to throw a book at Demyx.

Damn Number IX. He had no idea how he'd gotten mixed up with Demyx in the first place--certainly, in normal circumstances, the ninth member of the Organization would be far beneath his notice. Usually Zexion didn't even hang around the neophytes in the first place; he knew they existed, and with them the Organization had grown from the founding six to ten, but he still didn't like being nearer to them than he absolutely had to. He saw nothing to recommend in VII and VIII, who seemed utterly wrapped up in each other, barely paying attention at all to the workings of the Organization outside of meetings, and X was clearly uninterested in anything that he couldn't treat as a game. IX had been the same in Zexion's opinion before--just another shiftless neophyte, existing only to fill up space in the Organization's roster but otherwise wouldn't do anything useful. And the Organization didn't need any neophytes in the first place. There were the six of them, with the closest bond. They were the core of the Organization, and the only ones he would trust.

He still thought that way about the other three neophytes, but Demyx...Demyx was much too complicated a matter. Even now, after about four months of officially being "together," he still couldn't wrap his mind around what it was they really had.

"_Unlimited, together we're unlimited," _Demyx was humming now. "_Together we'll be the greatest team there's ever been--"_

"Demyx." Zexion groaned and snapped shut his book, rubbing his aching temples. There was no way he could think now...he'd taken to the library in the hopes of finding peace and solace, but Demyx had to follow him there. He told Demyx it was okay so long as if he didn't make any noise, but Demyx was failing miserably at keeping his end of the bargain.

"Oh come on, Zexy, you don't always have to act like you have a stick shoved up your ass," Demyx said, hopping down from the windowsill in which he'd been curled up.

"I do _not," _Zexion said.

"Then prove it!"

"What does _that _mean?" Zexion raised his eyebrows; he had the inkling that Demyx had just made a double entendre, but with Demyx he could never be sure.

"Oh, I think you know what I mean," Demyx said, which didn't clear a single thing up. "I mean that I came with you because I hoped we'd do something a little, y'know, _interesting. _I was hoping we could just have some small talk in here or something, but all you're doing is sitting here with your nose buried in those boring books."

"They are _not _boring."

"Congrats on totally missing the point!"

Well, well...Demyx certainly seemed peeved today. Normally he was so live-and-let-live in attitude, which Zexion had to admit was part of the reason why he had been attracted to Demyx in the first place. No matter how often he wronged Demyx, whether in insulting him or telling him his music was awful or forgetting to show up for dates, Demyx could always laugh it off and they could always have a nice thoughtless tumble after that. He liked that--how Demyx led, but not actively. Relationship-wise Zexion was always happy to follow in Demyx's lead--so long as that following didn't require him to _do _much.

Today seemed different, though. Perhaps Demyx was merely having his time of month...? Like Saix.

"And your point is...?" Zexion said.

"That I want to spend time with you, not watch you read." Demyx marched towards him, his arms crossed, his expression livid. Zexion was beginning to worry now. He didn't have much experience in sex besides with Demyx, and Demyx was always fairly gentle with him, but...he'd heard that it could be much more brutal. He wasn't blind to the things Saix and Axel did behind closed doors, nor the reason why Axel spent most of his time limping instead of walking and kept thinking of elaborate excuses to avoid actually sitting in his throne in Where Nothing Gathers.

But Demyx was kind. Demyx wouldn't hurt him, right...?

"Demyx, I'll spend all the time I want with you after I'm done reading," Zexion said, deciding that cool-headed logic would always win the day.

Apparently not so with Demyx. He leaned forward, gripping Zexion's shoulder--almost painfully. Zexion hissed and pulled back, but Demyx tightened his grip and pulled him closer, until all Zexion could feel was his overwhelming presence--the presence that had brought him to Demyx's bed in the very beginning. The scent of sea salt and sweetness...the scent that reminded him, achingly so, of the life in Radiant Garden that he had lost.

Not, not him. _Ienzo. _He wasn't Ienzo any longer--and nor did he have any wish to be that weak little boy again.

"Demyx--" Zexion began, as Demyx leaned in close, but he didn't get to finish.

Demyx wrapped an arm tightly around his waist and drew him into a passionate kiss. At first Zexion stiffened and tried pulling away, but Demyx didn't get the message and only dragged him closer and even swept him off his feet, astonishing Zexion greatly--he hadn't thought that Demyx had enough strength to carry him. He wondered if the vertigo spinning in his head was because his feet weren't touching the ground, or if it was because of...because of Demyx's mouth, pressing tightly against his own, his tongue probing deep into the warm cavern of Zexion's mouth, massaging Zexion's tongue lightly at first and then with more pressure, more passion...

Zexion felt himself caving, despite his resolve. Or lack thereof. It really didn't matter what he intellectually believed, not while Demyx was carrying him in his strong arms and kissing him so fiercely yet so lovingly at the same time. In a way it almost felt like blasphemy, for a boy without a heart to kiss another equally heartless boy as if they had the heart--the _right_--to kiss with such feeling.

Blasphemy. The thought made cruel pleasure tremble within him--and he gave in. He pressed back into Demyx's kiss, not content to hang limply in his arms accepting it, and wrapped his arms tightly around Demyx's neck. When they broke apart Zexion captured Demyx's lips into another kiss, less loving than the first but more hungry and desperate; Demyx quickly took the reins from him and kissed him back with bruising force. Just the right amount of force.

Still carrying Zexion, still intently making out with him, Demyx opened a dark portal before him and stepped through it.

* * *

Zexion smiled cruelly as he gazed down at Demyx, admiring his handiwork.

He had pushed the needles in just under Demyx's skin, making sure to only break through the outer layer rather than push through and injure anything vital. Blood was trickling from the wounds, for sure, winding in delicate and intricate patterns across Demyx's perfect skin, shockingly dark.

Zexion still had a needle left, and he was currently deliberating where to stick it in. He had to make this quick; Demyx looked hard enough to come now, and judging by the way he was gasping and shivering, tears streaking down his reddened cheeks and sweat shining on his skin, he was _going _to. All right, Zexion allowed that some of Demyx's reaction might come from pain. But in Demyx's twisted little schema, pain and pleasure were one and the same.

"Z-Zexion--oh, Zexion," gasped Demyx. "Please please _please, _I c-can't, I--"

"Don't come," Zexion said, infusing his voice with an extra layer of frostiness. "You know what the punishment for _that _is."

"Ohhh, Zexion--really, I _can't_--"

"Are you telling me to hurry up? Are you trying to give _me _an order?" Zexion lowered his voice and, sadistically, seized the end of the needle embedded right beneath Demyx's collarbone and pushed it further in. More blood burst out and flowed richly, freshly; Zexion watched it form rivulets over Demyx's chest with morbid fascination.

"Aaagh--oh Zexion, p-please, you know I d-didn't--" Demyx gasped, convulsing. "Oh please, I w-wanna, I j-just wanna--"

Zexion frowned. Demyx _was _being rather a bad boy, basically telling him to "hurry the hell up." But all the same...as fun as it was to draw it out, it was even more fun making Demyx arch his back and cry out his name...

He flicked the tip of the needle over the slit of Demyx's erect cock. Demyx squealed aloud and the blood rushed away from his face. "Oh no, no no no! Zexion, you _wouldn't_--"

"Here you go again," Zexion said with a heavy sigh. "Thinking you can give me orders. Well, I will have you know--"

He didn't get to finish, nor did he get to stick the needle into where it belonged--because in that instant light flared up behind him, so bright and sudden that he was momentarily blinded. He was aware of shouting out loud in confusion--just what the hell was going _on? _His first thought was that one of the other Order members had found the two of them, but that couldn't be right. Few had the initiative and drive to even leave their rooms, let alone snoop on other members.

"Zexion? Zexion, what's going on?" Demyx demanded, sounding panicky.

"Shh," Zexion said, mostly to reassure the younger Nobody. He blinked several times, clearing the worst of the light from his vision, though everything was still very hazy. The light...he saw now that it came from a single concentrated source, a...a circle, or a sphere, glowing blindingly white and making the surroundings look pale and washed out. It smelled of ozone.

What _was _this? Zexion had never seen anything like this in all of his years as a Nobody and the years before. Instinctively, he moved in front of Demyx, trying to protect his innocent lover, still bound and with needles stuck in him. Whatever this light was, it couldn't be friendly...

And then it expanded. It happened so quickly that Zexion couldn't react in time; one second the light had been concentrated into a ball, and the next it had exploded, washing the entire room in blinding rays that he _felt _more than saw, hammering into his skull and overwhelming his sensitive nose with the sharp tang of ozone--

He heard Demyx cry out, and then he saw--

* * *

"_Something has changed within me, something is not the same," _Demyx belted at the ceiling. "_I'm through with playing by the rules of someone else's game--"_

"Demyx! What did I say about singing?" Zexion shouted from halfway across the room.

"And what'd _I _say about reading?" Demyx whirled around to point accusingly at the volume of poems which Zexion was currently perusing. "Face it, Zexy. You're not ever gonna make me give up my first love, so I won't make you give up yours."

"Love." Zexion felt a scowl twitch up his face. "Yes, as if Nobodies can love anything in the first place."

"So, by that logic, you don't actually like to read?"

"When did I say that?"

"I thought it was implied."

"Oh, _implied? _Aren't you proud of yourself, using such big words."

"Sheesh, no need to be so nasty," Demyx said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair and messing up his fauxhawk quite a bit. "But I figure you would be. You're always nasty after sex, aren't you?"

"What?" Zexion stiffened. "Since when?"

Well...he hadn't thought that, personally. It wasn't sex that made him nasty. He quite liked it, actually, and if done right it was something of a stress reliever. When Demyx took him to bed, pushing him against the mattress and stripping him either gently or with rough desperation (depending on his mood), and hit that place inside him that without fail always made him see stars, he could forget it all. Demyx's annoying music, Demyx's annoying words. Xemnas ranting about Kingdom Hearts. Axel and Saix's antics. His memories of Ienzo.

He forgot it, drowned in the pleasure that only Demyx could give. That man truly was a siren.

The aftermath, on the other hand, was rarely enjoyable. Usually, only about an hour or so after they finished rolling around in the sheets, laughing and gasping and moaning together, Demyx would pull himself upas if nothing had happened, summon his sitar, and begin playing. It had dumbfounded Zexion at the beginning and even _hurt _a bit. Had he not been good enough? Why was Demyx ignoring him?

After a while he just came to accept that Demyx didn't view sex the same way that he did. To Zexion, it was something special and beautiful, almost holy, and something he associated exclusively with Demyx. But hell...Demyx probably just viewed it as a fun little romp, a distraction from his _true _hobby and love, music. A nice distraction, yes, but a distraction nonetheless.

Zexion believed in having the courage to change the things one could, the serenity to accept the things one could not change, and the wisdom always to know the difference. This fell squarely in the second case, he had finally decided.

"Since forever," Demyx said. "_I'm through accepting limits 'cause someone says they're so, some things I cannot change but till I try I'll never know~!"_

"Please stop," Zexion hissed through gritted teeth.

Demyx responded, maddeningly enough, with a maniacal laugh. "Don't wanna not gonna."

"Oh, you," Zexion hissed, summoning his lexicon and preparing to pummel away at the Nocturne with it, or at least trap him in the pages for an hour or two, perhaps that'd get Demyx to reconsider his cavalier attitude--

And then light flooded the room.

"What the hell!" Demyx cried, and Zexion was aware of uttering a few choice expletives himself. He shielded his eyes and spun in the direction of the light, as much as his instincts were screaming for him to look away. There was a ball, glowing brilliantly as a second sun, spreading blinding rays through the room and reeking of ozone...

"Back away, Demyx," Zexion said, holding out his lexicon, though he had no idea what he was going to do with it. Trap the light in its pages? The very thought was laughable. This light, whatever it was, was far more powerful than anything he had ever seen before. Something beyond even the Organization's vast knowledge...

It exploded, in a violent blinding burst--Demyx had seized his hand and pulled him close, yelling a warning--too late, too late, the light flooded the room, and then--

* * *

It was a beautiful plaza or had been beautiful once, but now the stones were cracked and the statues discolored and overgrown with ivy. One, a bronze equestrian statue, had toppled in the dead center of the plaza. The patina-green rider's heroic pose now looked like he was thrashing about for help.

Four young men, barely boys, faced each other in horrified wonder on opposite ends of the plaza. Two were together and so were the other two.

The two couples looked exactly alike.

* * *

HAW HAW HAW obvious cliffhanger ending is OBVIOUS.

Updates will be sporadic, but I'll probably end up finishing it given how short this story. What a pile of weirdness. It was fun to write and made me feel marginally better about that novel that refuses to be crapped out, though not enough to start actually crapping it out. =(

By the way, the inclusion of "Defying Gravity"lyrics does not make this a songfic. _Wicked _is an awesome musical. It's one of the few fictional stories I've ever watched that actually made me cry real tears. Along with _Star Trek _2009 (the Kelvin's destruction...Kirk's birth...*sniff*), an episode of _Law & Order: SVU _(don't ask...), and the ending of _Birth by Sleep _(Aqua, you are...amazing).

Review if you feel like it. I don't really care, since I'm not taking this pile of crack seriously at all.


	2. Getting Off on the Wrong Start

**Through a Mirror, Darkly**

(AKA, "unoriginal title is unoriginal")

_They were two pairs from two worlds. They might have appeared the same, but they thought they were too different to find any common ground. Until they were forced to work together. Zemyx, Dexion_

Warnings: Yaoi, graphic scenes, abuse, S&M, seme!Zexion and uke!Zexion, seme!Demyx and uke!Demyx (...don't ask), a fat load of weirdness and craziness overall. Please don't take any of this shit seriously.

And we have a quick update. The two couples finally get to meet, and it's confusing as hell. XD Hopefully you can all keep track over which Zexion and Demyx is which...I try to differentiate them through the scene breaks and it should be fairly obvious who is who by their thoughts and the way they're viewing things. It's times like this that I really love and admire the power of third person limited narration (well, you could say that I could just have switching first person perspectives...but fanfiction in first person...ehhh). If you're confused, just go ahead and say so in a review, but there's no guarantee I'll change things, since I'm not taking this seriously at all.

Hmm, maybe the reason that novel isn't coming out is because I'm writing it in omniscient perspective, and usually I'm more comfortable with third person limited. So it's a bit difficult to plan scenes and figure out every character's thoughts/reactions on it, instead of just the viewpoint character's...

Hahahaha, thanks for all the reviews. It's rather surprising in a pleasing way since I'm not taking this seriously at all. Now if only my fictionpress stories could get that kind of a response... u_u I should use this as an opportunity to plug _Most Perfect Servant. _Which I just did. Please go read that. It's something I'm actually taking half-seriously, unlike this pile of crack.

* * *

2. Getting Off on the Wrong Start

Demyx stared across the plaza, wide-eyed and utterly dumbfounded.

_Okay, _he decided. _This is the last time I let Luxord buy me a drink! Who knows what he might've slipped into it?_

He _had _to be hallucinating. One hell of a bizarre hallucination, but...it couldn't be real! Not by any stretch of the imagination. Here he was, standing next to Zexion beneath an overcast sky in a vast plaza filled with crumbling statues, even though only a few seconds ago he'd been in his room in The Castle That Never Was. And...and on the far side of the plaza, staring back at him with identical shocked expressions on their faces, were...

Him and Zexion.

It _couldn't _be. After all, he was standing right here and Zexion was standing right beside him. And he wasn't staring into some giant mirror, either, because the other Zexion and Demyx looked quite different from him. For one thing, they were both completely naked. In normal circumstances, a naked Zexion would be something Demyx would happily feast his eyes on, but his gaze slid away from the other Zexion to...to the other _him._

The other Demyx was clinging tightly to the other Zexion, who had wrapped a protective arm around his shoulders. Which wasn't so unusual for them, Demyx supposed, but--but the other him looked like an utter wreck. Thin gleaming needles were sticking out of his bare skin like he was a pincushion and a black blindfold had been wrapped around his eyes. He was breathing hard, clearly fatigued and in pain. In fact, Demyx could have almost thought that this other version of him had been injured and tortured on a mission, and the other Zexion was nursing him back to health...

But Demyx wasn't fool enough to ignore the...ahh...raging problem between the other one's legs. Not to mention the other Zexion was naked too--and clutching a needle in one hand.

His stomach twisted violently. This was--this was _insane. _There was no way he and Zexion would ever do anything like that, would ever _like _anything like that. He couldn't accept that he was hallucinating this, because it meant that a part of his subconscious..._wanted_...to see something like this.

"Holy shit Zexion what's going on?" he gasped, squeezing the arm of the Zexion beside him. The smaller Nobody's skin felt reassuringly warm and alive under his touch. _Real._

"I'm hallucinating, this must be it," Zexion whispered, seemingly to himself. He had locked eyes with the other Zexion across the plaza, whose throat was convulsing like he wanted to speak. "I am hallucinating."

_The two of us can't share hallucinations, can we? _thought Demyx with a stab of panic. He found himself stepping in front of Zexion, acting on a protective instinct he hadn't thought existed. The other Zexion moved in front of his Demyx as well, as if in response. They stared each other down, equally confused, equally wondering. Equally suspicious.

At length, the other Zexion broke the silence.

"Who are you?" he said, his voice a hiss.

* * *

Demyx had always known that Zexion was braver than he was--not by much, but enough. Enough so that he was the one always protecting Demyx, instead of the other way around. But apparently, these two--these clones of him and his Zexion--had it the opposite way around, if the way _that _Demyx stepped in front of _that _Zexion was any indication.

He didn't mind staring at them from his safe position cowering behind Zexion. They looked exactly like he and his Zexion did, except they were wearing pants and their Zexion had thrown a Thirteenth Order coat over his shoulders. Yet there was something subtly different about them as well...something more confident to their Demyx, something more retiring to their Zexion.

His head spun. He wondered if he wasn't dreaming it all, if the pain hadn't gotten to him and addled his brains. But no, Zexion never hurt him more than he could take, and this was only a fraction of the true pain his lover could dish out. Just little pinpricks, like mosquito bites. This was...whatever it was, it was _happening._

He was aware of clutching something tightly in one hand; he glanced down and saw it was the blindfold. In normal circumstances, Zexion would be furious at him for taking it off without being ordered to, but...these weren't ordinary circumstances in the slightest. He squeezed Zexion's arm tighter, clinging to his lover for something real amidst all this madness.

How had this happened? One minute he'd been eagerly awaiting Zexion to torment him and then screw him senseless, as they did every night; the next, they'd ended up--_here. _Wherever "here" was. He couldn't summon any pleasure, not even some last vestiges, anymore; his erection had long deflated to nothing.

"Who are you?" Zexion asked again, when the other two didn't respond.

At length, their Demyx spoke, his voice thin and brittle and filled with harsh bravado. "Could ask the same of you."

Demyx squeaked a little and clutched Zexion's arm tighter. It was so..._disorienting _hearing that other one speak. His voice was the same as Demyx's, that was true, but it sounded so different as well...older and more self-assured, for one.

But if this other Demyx was so self-assured, Zexion was even more so. "I am Zexion, number VI in the Thirteenth Order--"

"What?" The other Zexion spoke. His voice was shrill and strained from something approaching hysteria. Quite unlike how calm and in-control the real Zexion was. "It's called the Organization!"

"What are you talking about?" A vein was twitching in Zexion's temple. "Why do you look like us and how did you get here?"

"Hey, I don't know why you guys look like--well us." The other Demyx made a few vague gestures. "And I dunno exactly how we got here. There was this ball of light thing, and then we were--here. Hey, you sure you're even real?"

"What?" Zexion hissed in displeasure and raised an arm as if to summon his lexicon.

"Wait!" Demyx squeaked, squeezing his arm to stop him. Zexion whirled around to face him, his expression livid. Demyx cringed, expecting Zexion to hit him or worse.

Nothing of the sort happened. Zexion sighed and patted his shoulder, awkwardly avoiding the two needles stuck there, before asking, "Yes, Demyx?"

Zexion was actually asking him to speak. Demyx's head spun in amazement. Then again, after everything had gone topsy turvy, he was sure this one little thing didn't matter. "Umm...well...I think...I think that they--I think they're as confused as we are. We shouldn't fight I guess, we should, umm, all try to, umm, work this out together."

"Hmm." Zexion gazed down at him, with one unfathomable dark blue eye. The eyes that had attracted Demyx to him in the first place... "Well, I can't deny the logic of that."

It was all Demyx could do to keep from squealing his delight aloud. Zexion--Zexion was actually listening to him! Taking his advice! If that wasn't a first...

"Hey! Hey, no secrets! What the hell're you plotting, huh?" shouted the other Demyx quite rudely, and shattering their moment.

Zexion glared at him over his shoulder, his expression cold again. "We are not plotting anything."

"Yes, that's right," the other Zexion said, running a hand through his hair. The gesture made Demyx's stomach knot up; it was so _familiar. _Zexion did that often whenever Demyx frustrated him, which was sadly quite often. "No need to be so paranoid, you idiot."

"Paranoid? What do you _want _me to do, huh? Just sit down and offer 'em tea? C'mon, if _you _were in this situation--"

"Which I am, in case you've forgotten. _Idiot."_

The other Demyx looked ready to shout some more, but the other Zexion pressed both of his hands over that Demyx's mouth. The other Demyx shouted a protest through his Zexion's hands, and tried pushing him away by grabbing his wrists, but the other Zexion spoke above his protests.

"As I said, there's no point in indulging in paranoia. We must...ahh...assess this situation."

* * *

Zexion folded his arms and scowled as he watched the other two tussle across the plaza. Though he didn't know much about them, wasn't even sure if they were real, he already knew that he intensely disliked them. He couldn't fathom a version of himself who _couldn't _keep Demyx under control. Yet here they were, this version of him and this version of Demyx, grappling and pushing each other and swearing--and it seemed that their Demyx had the upper hand.

"Assess? Assess _what? _No, what we need to do is figure out what Luxord did to spike that damn cocktail--"

"How self-centered do you have to be to believe that this is all _your _hallucination? I'm seeing the same thing! Why not accept that this is really happening, whatever it is--"

Zexion exchanged glances with Demyx, who stared timidly back at him. He looked a little afraid, as if he expected Zexion's displeasure; certainly he deserved his fair share, for taking off his blindfold and speaking out of turn. But the thought of punishing Demyx in these circumstances was plain laughable. He would be lenient, just for today.

He smiled and patted Demyx on the head, before turning to face the tussling two on the plaza's other side.

"Ahem," he said loudly, enough to cut above their shouts. "Excuse me...I do believe that we have things to discuss?"

"Discuss it up your ass!" shouted the other Demyx.

Zexion was, to say the least, utterly floored.

His first instinct was to shout back that Demyx had better apologize or else he'd be punished, but...that wasn't _his _Demyx speaking. This rude loud-mouthed creature. Could his innocent angel have any relation to that?

"That's _enough!" _shouted the other Zexion. Zexion was quite encouraged to see him finally growing a spine. "Getting angry will not help you. He--he is quite right. We need to calmly discuss this. Calmly, and _rationally. _Now, will you stop throwing a tantrum?"

Hmm, he could be a little more forceful and upfront. But it seemed to have worked, becausee the other Demyx sighed and turned away, shaking his head in frustration. "Fine then," he said, seemingly aiming his words at the cracked flagstone beneath his feet. "Whadda ya wanna discuss?"

"Well," Zexion said, clasping his hands. He was glad he had control of the conversation again, and the warmth of Demyx's hand around his arm only encouraged him more. "Why don't we resume our introductions? I am, as I've already said, Zexion, number VI in the Thirteenth Order. And this is Demyx, number IX."

"Umm...nice to meet you," Demyx said shyly from behind him. Zexion sympathized with how utterly surreal it must feel, greeting people who looked exactly like you...though he was having an easier time now thinking of those two as distinct people from him and Demyx, mostly because of how different their personalities were.

"Zexion, number VI in the _Organization," _the other Zexion said, with very pointed emphasis on the last word..

"And I'm also Demyx and I'm also number IX," the other Demyx said, looking quite peeved at being an "also." "Geez, so what, you're like some alternate versions of us? Or what."

"Maybe," offered Demyx. "I mean, it makes sense. Right, Zexion?"

Zexion was about to reply, but the other Zexion spoke first. "But how the hell is that possible? I'm quite sure we're not Cylons."

"Huh?" was the reaction of the other three.

"Apparently you don't know what good television is," the other Zexion said snippily, confusing everyone further.

Zexion cleared his throat again, desiring to steer the conversation back to its proper track. But before he could speak, he was again cut off, this time by the other two's eyes widening and faces paling, before they both backed off, step by quivering step. Zexion frowned at them, a little bemused. Were they suddenly _afraid _of him? That was a fun thought to entertain, but it couldn't be right.

"Huh? What's wrong?" Demyx said.

"B...behind you," gasped the other Zexion, pointing a quivering finger at them. "Behind..."

"What?" snapped Zexion, quite irritated. Why wouldn't they explain what was going on? But then--

Something roared, loud and terrible, from behind him. A shadow loomed over him and Demyx, and then...

A monster appeared.

* * *

Zexion gained control of himself just as the monster swung a sledgehammer-sized fist towards the other two. He summoned his lexicon with a flick of his wrist and immediately cast a Firaga spell from its open pages. The monster backed off with a roar as the fireball struck its chest.

A monster he could only describe as an enormous zombie, easily twice his size. It had gray skin peeling away from his bones and was dressed in a ragged facsimile of an Organization coat. And its hair...it had _Demyx's _fauxhawk.

"That's _my _hair!" Demyx squeaked, the first coherent thing he'd said since the monster had appeared. Quite fitting. And then he summoned his sitar and leaped forward, strumming its strings and bringing forth pillars of water. "Dance, water, dance!"

The other Zexion pushed his Demyx away from the mosnter before summoning his own lexicon, which looked a little different from Zexion's though Zexion couldn't define it immediately. As the monster swung its fists towards him and his Demyx, he cast Reflect and the monster's fists glanced helplessly off the shining barrier.

The monster howled--and its howl was answered by a shriek. Zexion looked around wildly, trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from--

"Above you!" shouted the other Demyx, pointing to the sky--directly at a flock of leathery-winged pterodactyl-like creatures descending towards him and Demyx.

Demyx screamed in a _very _manly fashion before directing a huge water pillar into the sky. It knocked most of the winged creatures out of the sky and sent them clattering helplessly on the flagstone, but one of them remained obstinately in the air, screeching as it hurtled straight towards Zexion.

It had a flat, vaguely human face, and a ragged fringe of purplish hair covering one eye. _Me, _Zexion thought with a sick thrill.

The other Zexion sent a flurry of pages towards the flying monster. They sliced into its leathery hide, sharp as razors and driving up bursts of black blood. It didn't stop flying, but cawed, enraged. Zexion fell to the ground as it flew directly at him, talons extended to claw at his face.

_What the hell's going on? _he thought, his mind wild with panic. _Why can't I smell them? I should, I should, but they don't have any scent--_

Or at least a scent distinct from that of the world entire, something like--like drying ink and crisp parchment. Odd indeed. You would think that there would be _some _hint of stone or ivy or metal, given the surroundings...

"_Zexy!" _Demyx shrieked, racing rashly in front of him as the monster descended. Zexion cried aloud in horror; Demyx had never performed such an insanely stupid action before. Usually he ran away from battles as fast as possible! But here he was, roaring inarticulately and swinging his sitar like a club before smashing into the monster's neck with a sickening crunch. Shrieking, the monster collided limply into the flagstone and didn't move.

"Oh, Demyx," was all Zexion could manage to say.

The other two were busy dealing with the huge zombie monster--scratch that, make that _two _zombie monsters. And more monsters were coming, flooding into the plaza from its northern entrance. At least a dozen of them, identical creatures crawling on four legs. In size and proportion they looked like pale fetuses, but their faces...they had grotesque gaping-eyed infant faces that were all too familiar because they were _his, _his and Demyx's...

"Holy shit what _are _those?" squeaked the other Demyx. He'd summoned his sitar as well, which again looked different from Demyx's thought Zexion couldn't place it, and was driving off the nearest of the fetus monsters with blasts of water. But it wasn't enough, never enough...they kept crawling forward, grinning toothy maniacal grins, and the two zombie monsters were attacking as well, hurling punches wildly at the two struggling Nobodies.

_It's not enough, _Zexion realized. _We have to retreat, we have to--_

* * *

"Retreat!" the other Zexion's voice cried, distant and small. "Retreat! Do you hear me? We can't fight them off! Our only option is to run!"

Zexion knew that, of course. They were outnumbered and outmatched, both by the huge zombies whose blows he was having increasing trouble blocking and those disgusting little fetuses who were biting at his ankles with needle-sharp teeth. He could still hold his own, somewhat, but he was concerned for Demyx. Demyx could fight, but he was horrible at it, one of the Order's worst. And that was when he was in prime condition. Right now...you would be hard-pressed to describe his condition as "prime." Not when rivulets of blood were streaking from the dozens of needles pinned in his naked body and his breathing was coming shallow and ragged.

"Demyx!" he cried as Demyx attacked the three fetus monsters ganging up on him with a weak sputter of water. His little lover's strength was failing, and fast. "You heard them! There's no point in fighting! Run!"

"Zexion--" Demyx whispered, meeting his eyes. His face was bloodless, terrified. Guilt wormed its way into Zexion's stomach. It was his fault, he knew. All his fault. If only he could protect Demyx better...

"Come," he hissed, snatching Demyx by the wrist. Demyx didn't protest at all as Zexion led him across the plaza, in a wild zig-zagging run after the other two. The other Zexion, it seemed, had hurled his coat at an attacking flyer as a distraction. Seeing the monster tear into the coat suddenly reminded Zexion of his own nudity; in the confusion of arriving here and the heat of battle, he hadn't cared, but now he was painfully conscious of the combination of the cold air and sweat on his bare skin, raising uncomfortable goosebumps...

But he had to think about getting dressed later. Right now, the most important thing was survival. Getting out of here before those monsters--the monsters with his and Demyx's faces--tore him and his lover apart.

_I promised you that I would protect you, Demyx. I haven't failed you yet--and I don't plan on failing._

* * *

Inventing monsters is quite fun...though you'll have to wait to find out why they have Zex and Dem's faces. Isn't that a grotesque image. Some nice nightmares to interrupt your wet dreams.

And Battlestar Galactica reference for the win. I've always thought of writing a crackfic with the Org members as the Cylons. XD Xemnas as Cavil would be pretty easy to see, but Zexion as Six? LOL HA HA HA. That leaves the question of who poor Baltar is...Riku? Oh man, now I want to write this. BSG is the best.

Can't promise updates, especially since I have an Academic Decathlon tournament coming up (which I am woefully unprepared for...), and like I said I'm not taking this crackfic seriously. In the meantime, please check out my fictionpress because there's some half-decent stuff on there. Only half-decent.


	3. A Dimensional Discussion

**Through a Mirror, Darkly**

(AKA, "unoriginal title is unoriginal")

_They were two pairs from two worlds. They might have appeared the same, but they thought they were too different to find any common ground. Until they were forced to work together. Zemyx, Dexion_

Warnings: Yaoi, graphic scenes abuse, S&M, seme!Zexion and uke!Zexion, seme!Demyx and uke!Demyx (...don't ask), a fat load of weirdness and craziness overall. Please don't take any of this shit seriously.

Yaaaay, I'm updating really quickly on this! Probably because of the response.*

Finally, something interesting and vaguely plot-related happens here, and the two couples get some proper interaction. Which, I'll confess, is probably quite confusing pronouns and name-wise...u_u I was toying with the notion of assigning the couples from different universes different names of sorts, but it didn't feel right and didn't work with the kind of tightly controlled POV changes I'm using. You'll have to rely on the narrative voice of the current POV to clue you in on who is who. I'm trying to make it as clear as possible, but eh, there's always room for improvement. So please do tell me if a section doesn't seem clear on which Zexion or Demyx is narrating.

Too bad it's hella long. Or maybe not. I seem to be a terrible judge of lengths, since I thought the second chapter was longer than the first, and it was actually shorter. O_o

*Speaking of responses, that's part of the reason why I haven't updated my fictionpress for a while, because I go through all this effort to put up a semi-decent story on the site but no one reviews. I do consider the stories on there superior to my fanfiction, so this is an open invitation to check it out (username of "Bickazer"). Unless you're only reading my fics for the OMFG HAWT Zex and Dems smexing, which in that case all I can say to you is that I hope you go very far in life.

* * *

3. A Dimensional Discussion

If Zexion hadn't been busy running for his life, he would have thought that the city was quite an interesting one. Aside from that wide crumbling plaza, the rest of the city seemed to be made up of narrow cobbled streets between whitewashed buildings boxed up next to each other. It would almost have been picturesque if it wasn't so empty--climbing flowers hung from wrought-iron balconies, little cafes flashed neon "OPEN" signs, beaded curtains dangled in front of doorways, lights were strung between gently waving trees. There was a sort of Mediterranean, or maybe Carribean, feel to the city. Zexion kept expecting to see a stretch of beach around the next corner, but of course he wouldn't--he couldn't smell any of the distinctive salty presence of the ocean which was endemic to every seaside city.

And it was so _empty _too. This was the sort of place that ought to be bustling at every hour--people going about their daily business in the daytime, milling in the narrow alleys and spilling across the plaza; and during the night, people would come out to dance and share cocktails. But there was a conspicuous lack of anything living, not even a bird. Just him and Demyx and the two others, and the monsters...

He was getting a stitch in his side from running so much; he longed to collapse on his knees and wheeze and explain to the others that he was merely taking a break. But there wouldn't be any breaks, not as long as those monsters were chasing him. Those monsters with his and Demyx's faces.

_This is a dream, this must be, _he thought. But he'd never been much of a dreamer and his dreams were never this vivid. He could _feel _it all, the adrenaline coursing through his veins and the sweat stinging his skin and the burning of his muscles. And if it was a dream...well, that meant that on some subconscious level, he actually _wanted _to dominate Demyx.

Ha. A laughable thought. He might as well try dominating a tidal wave. Demyx was practically a natural phenomenom, something beyond Zexion's petty scientific comprehension. He did his own thing and Zexion had long accepted that, no matter how much it pained him.

"Hey! Hey, _hey! _Hold it, dammit! Stop, _stop!"_

Zexion whirled around, astonished. Was he actually _ahead _of Demyx? Sure enough, he saw almost three yards separating him from Demyx, who'd stopped running and was breathing hard, his hands on his knees; the other two had stopped behind him, both looking quite ill and tired. The other Zexion was supporting his nearly unconscious Demyx with an arm draped over his shoulder.

There were no monsters behind them. Disbelieving relief ran through Zexion's body, unknotting the tension that had gathered in the pit of his stomach.

"There aren't any monsters anymore," the other Zexon said, his voice a faint rasp. "We seem to have outrun them."

"Yeah, well, we can't run forever," Demyx said, straightening. "We've gotta find some shelter, somewhere safe to stay..."

Zexion couldn't argue with that logic. He glanced around the alleyway they were currently in. It looked identical to the others they'd passed through, and in his currently panicked state none of the buildings looked safe. He kept fantasizing that the flyers would break through the flimsy glass windows, or one of the huge zombies would punch straight through the plaster walls. But no, the monsters were nowhere in sight; his fear was illogical, born from basic flight instinct. As well as his current inability to sniff them out. Zexion didn't like being surprised because it was nearly impossible to surprise him, but now...he was as helpless as any human.

"We must find somewhere with an actual door," the other Zexion said, glaring at the beaded curtains blocking most of the doorways.

"Right, doors we can barricade and stuff, like they always do in the zombie movies," Demyx said.

Zexion, despite himself, snorted. "This isn't a movie, you idiot."

"Yeah, but the principle's the same," Demyx said.

"_Principle, _hmm? It's quite sad how you're putting your vocabulary to use by defending your choice of 'entertainment.'"

"Oh, geez, _someone's _pissy today--"

"Enough," the other Zexion said, his harsh voice cutting through their little lover's spat (though it was no different from most of their conversations). "Don't forget, we must find shelter."

His breathing was coming in short gasps and sweat had plastered his hair all over his face. He was covered with little scratches and bruises from his desperate fighting earlier. But he didn't appear in nearly as terrible condition as his Demyx, now slumped unconscious with his head resting on his Zexion's shoulder. Many of the needles had fallen out, leaving behind little bright red pinpricks like some kind of pox, but quite a few were still stuck into him. Zexion felt a tremor of disgust as he beheld the unconscious Demyx and the other version of him who had done this. He would never hurt Demyx like that. Never.

"Well...there's a door there," Demyx called from the end of the alley, indicating a tiny cafe in the corner of a four way intersection. "And this is one of those places where the store owners live--or would live I guess, since they're not here--upstairs above the store, so there'll be beds and showers and stuff like that. And clothes."

Zexion was quite surprised by how observant Demyx could be, but then again, most of the Nocturne's missions were of the reconaissance variety given his uselessness at fighting. He ought to be at least _semi_-decent at this by now.

Well, the promise of shelter and a shower was quite alluring to Zexion, and had to be doubly alluring to the other two. In unconscious agreement, they moved together towards the small building by which Demyx was now standing. The other two were rather lagging behind him, and a small part of Zexion thought that perhaps he should help his double support his Demyx. But just the thought of doing that made his skin crawl. He was fine with accepting that the other two were physically here, but touching them would be far too...much. It wouldn't be right to lay hands on a Demyx who didn't belong to him.

* * *

The cafe was small and low-ceilinged, but that was fine by the four who entered because none of them were tall enough to bump their heads on it (unlike, say, Vexen or Lexaeus). Navigating across the linoleum floor through the jutting plastic shapes of the round tables and their chairs was a little bit more of a chore. There were quite a few grunts and oaths, mostly from the other Zexion and Demyx.

Zexion already noticed that both of them seemed a little more outgoing, or at least more willing to talk, than him and his Demyx. He supposed that came from their relationship being somewhat more equal than the one he and Demyx shared...but he wouldn't have it any other way. He wouldn't dominate Demyx so if Demyx _didn't _want it, after all.

As the four made their way towards the cracked countertop on the far end of the cafe, they glanced around the room in wonder. Not that there was much to see in the dull half-light streaming in through the grimy windows--just the pitted floor and the dead flowers hanging limply out of little crystal vases on every table.

And the pictures. The walls were covered with little picture frames all crowding up next to each other, and displaying fading, mostly black-and-white pictures presumably from the cafe's history. The pictures gave Zexion pause. Shifting Demyx's weight to his other shoulder (that shoulder had started aching quite badly), he stopped in front of one of them, and stared.

It was...him and Demyx. Him in a stage magician's costume, top hat doffed in a bow, and Demyx in something that resembled what a minstrel cosplayer would wear to a Renaissance fair, posing with a mandolin. And the other pictures as well were the same, sending a thrill of uncomfortable familiary--yet unfamiliarity as well--shooting through his gut.

Him and Demyx, all of them. Not all dressed in the same, and in some not even the same age. He saw them as children and as adults and as bent old men (recognizing them only by their distinctive hairstyles), and in one particularly horrifying and baffling case, as a married couple cradling babies.

The others had stopped to stare as well, with equal measurements of wonder and horror. At length, the other Demyx spoke what had to be running through all of their minds:

"Ohhh-_kay. _Now, if this isn't totally creepy and weird."

"Let's just go," growled the other Zexion, stomping forward and avoiding staring at the wall with fierce determination. He pushed open the little swinging door dividing the kitchen from the eating area and motioned for the others to follow him up a flight of carpeted stairs just behind the countertop.

This was as good advice as any, so Zexion followed.

* * *

Demyx sprawled across the bed and unleashed a jaw-cracking yawn. He didn't think he'd ever felt so tired before...but it made sense, given everything that had happened. He vaguely wondered that if he fell asleep, maybe he'd wake up to a normal day in the Organization, and then he could laugh about his silly dream with Zexion.

But it was real, all right. The bed beneath him was solid (uncomfortably so), and the sheets quite scratchy against his skin. His sides were throbbing from having run for so long. Not even the most vivid dream could feel so life-like, he decided. Crazy as it all was...it had all been real.

"Why are they taking so long?" snapped Zexion, pacing irritably across the tiny room, his arms folded and a scowl dragging down his face. "I imagine by the time they're done there won't be any hot water left in the shower."

"At least there _is _a shower," Demyx said, doggedly trying to look on the bright side.

Zexion sighed and perched on the edge of the bed, crossing his legs in a quite feminine manner. The new Organization coat he was wearing draped around him like the wings of a bat.

Demyx had on a new coat, too. Much to the surprise of all four, the closets and wardrobes upstairs only contained standard Organization coats, boots and gloves (aside from one drawer which held a stage magician's costume and a colorful minstrel's costume). Some of them looked a bit different--they were more a dull dark gray than black, and had zippers shaped like Nobody symbols; the other Zexion had immediately chosen these ones for him and his Demyx. They were in the shower now, together, and it seemed the other Demyx had awoken since Demyx could now hear the soft patter of conversation through the steady hiss of water. He wondered sourly if that other Zexion was taking so long because he was fixing up his Demyx's injuries.

_Your fault, _Demyx thought discontently, rolling over.

But what a creepy place this was. So far, he hadn't seen anything living, or a hint of former life, that _didn't _involve him and Zexion somehow. Those monsters...the pictures...the Organization coats that fit them perfectly. It was all beginning to give him the heeby-jeebies.

The voices grew a little louder, so that Demyx could make out distinct voices.

"--glad I didn't hurt you too badly--"

"'Course, Zexion, you never hurt me...umm, well, not more than I can take. I know...umm...uhh..."

"Ah? What's the matter?"

"I know...I know you--you--you love me, don't you? You love me. So you wouldn't hurt me."

_Love. _Demyx's eyes shot wide open and something sickening twisted in the empty space in his chest. The space that he long refused to fill because he wanted to believe that he _hadn't _in fact lost everything. Hadn't lost his ability to feel...

A low little laugh, and then: "Of course. Of course I love you."

Demyx was aware of a sharp intake of breath from Zexion, but he didn't dare look at Zexion to see his reaction. He clung tightly to the scratchy sheets, sweat prickling on the back of his neck, a discontent feeling very close to anger rising in the core of his non-being. It wasn't right, wasn't _right. _Those two, the two who were involved in something clearly unhealthy and dangerous, couldn't possibly feel deeper than he and Zexion did.

He wouldn't accept it. But still the words rung in his ears, mocking him: _I love you, I love you, love, love, love..._

* * *

"So," Zexion said. "Now that we are relatively safe and cleaned up, I suppose we can now have a good long discussion about...about how all this came to be."

The four had gathered in the larger of the two bedrooms above the cafe, and we were sitting in a circle on the threadbare carpeted floor. It was quite uncomfortable and there wasn't much room; Zexion had wanted to hold it downstairs in the cafe proper, but the other two vociferously opposed this motion, stating that upstairs was safer. Demyx had to agree with them, and even found the courage to voice this to Zexion. Zexion had been terribly displeased in him, but in the end he recognized he was outnumbered and relented.

Demyx sat close to Zexion, close enough to squeeze Zexion's arm. Zexion obliged his unspoken desire for closeness by wrapping an arm around his waist. His touch was firm but gentle, and so delightfully warm...one of the many things that Demyx loved about him. He rested his head on his lover's shoulder, feeling oddly content despite the seriousness of their situation. He felt a lot better now that he'd been cleaned up and dressed; Zexion had even been kind enough to use one of his lexicon's stash of potions on him, so that the needle wounds no longer stung so badly anymore.

"What do you mean, how this came to be?" the other Demyx said, rather aggressively. "Like, how we came to get here? Or do you mean how this whole crazy ass world suddenly popped up?"

Demyx shuddered a little, hearing his own voice speaking with such harshness. He wasn't like that at all! Usually he valued getting along with other people more than anything. That was part of what led him to so easily accept Zexion's dominance--though most of that was simply because he _loved _Zexion.

"I think he means the former," the other Zexion said. "Although the latter is worth investigating as well. Certainly, it may explain how we ended up here in the first place, and what we can do about it."

"Yes, well," Zexion said, looking a little annoyed though Demyx couldn't say why, "we ought to focus on the former as of now."

The two Zexions, despite being so different, did talk in pretty much the same way, Demyx thought with a little bubble of amusement. All stiff and formal and never using a one-syllable word if a three-syllable one could substitute. Though he liked to entertain the notion that _his _Zexion sounded more confident, and the other one more whiny.

"We're clearly the same people...of sorts," Zexion said.

"Perhaps there are replicas involved somehow?" the other Zexion said.

"I thought that too," Zexion said. "It certainly doesn't strike me as above Vexen to do something like this--back when he was up to it, of course."

"What does that mean?" The other Zexion raised his eyebrow.

"Well, he doesn't do much of anything anymore--certainly you should know this--"

"No, I don't. As far as I know, Vexen is _quite _busy. When he's not badgering the Superior for support on his latest pet project, he's fiddling around in his laboratory. Many times he's caused some...interesting...things to happen in the entire castle. But 'it's all in the name of science' so it's justified. Or so he thinks."

"Hmm...that _does _sound like Vexen," Zexion said, rubbing his chin in his familiar thinking gesture--seeing it filled Demyx with an affection he couldn't explain. "Or rather, the way he was years ago..."

"Years? Wait--are you operating on a different timeline from us, perhaps?" the other Zexion said, leaning eagerly forward. "Yes, perhaps you're the two of us from the future--"

The other Demyx laughed loudly.

"What?" The other Zexion rounded on him. "It's certainly not beyond possibility--don't _you _love that idiotic musical about time travel?"

"It's a _rock opera, _actually, and well...maybe I can accept time travel, but c'mon, Zexy. You think we'll ever be like that?" He gestured lazily and contemptuously towards Zexion and Demyx; dislike spiked in Demyx's stomach.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm pretty sure we were never like you!"

Zexion cast him a disapproving frown which right about froze Demyx's insides, before turning towards the other two. "That's right. I have been with Demyx for years, and I can say for a fact that we have never been...never been the way that you are."

"And your Organization's called something different, right?" the other Demyx said. "Order something..."

"Yes," Zexion said. "We are the Thirteenth Order, and we always have been."

"All right then," the other Zexion said, scowling. "So you aren't time travelers. Then what...you aren't exactly like us, you know."

Demyx thought this was pretty much stating the obvious, and he would've pointed it out, but he didn't want to risk Zexion's disapproval again. The other Demyx felt no reservations about doing so, clapping his Zexion on the back and saying with a laugh, "Want a medal, Captain Obvious?"

Another sign of the difference between them. If Demyx had tried doing that to _his _Zexion, well...dear lord. He didn't even want to think about how Zexion would punish him for that.

"I didn't mean it _that _way," the other Zexion, looking peeved as he pushed aside his Demyx's hand. "I mean that aside from the...well, the obvious...there are other prominent differences between us. For instance, your coats. And the name of your Organization...and your weapons are different as well, are they not?"

Demyx thought about the weapons he'd seen those two wielding--much more rounded and simpler than the angular and intricate weapons he and Zexion actually used--and had to agree.

"So you're not perfect replicas, nor are you time travelers." Demyx was a bit annoyed at how this Zexion assumed that he and Zexion were the replicas; judging by Zexion's annoyed twitch, he was too. "That leaves only one option."

"And what's that?" the other Demyx said.

"I'd think that it's abundantly clear," the other Zexion, a slight smirk crossing his pale face--a smirk that hammered somewhere deep inside Demyx because it was so damnably _familiar. _"You two are from another dimension."

* * *

It made...so much _sense._

Zexion didn't want to admit this, because he definitely didn't like this submissive and temperamental other version of himself, but he wasn't one to deny logic when it was staring him clearly in the face. It was a perfect explanation, really, which meant it only annoyed him more that he hadn't come up with it.

Apparently, both Demyxes didn't seem to think so. The other Demyx said in his loud and obnoxious way, "What the hell? That doesn't make any sense!"

His own dear Demyx tugged on his sleeve and whined, "Zexion, I don't understand..."

"Shh," Zexion whispered, placing a finger over Demyx's lips. Demyx got the message and drew away from him, though he was still fixing Zexion with that adorable look of confusion. He couldn't resist ruffling Demyx's hair affectionately; in due time he'd explain everything to his poor little lover.

The other Zexion did not seem to share this sentiment. "It is perfectly _obvious, _you fool."

"Maybe to _you_, but hey, remember that not everyone's a genuis like you! So why don'cha explain in regular talk for the rest of us?"

Zexion had to swallow down a snapped order for Demyx to shut up and stop giving him commands. This wasn't _his _Demyx. This was a Demyx who held the reins, as bizarre an idea as that was.

"How can you be so brainless?" the other Zexion said. "It's exactly as I said. These two are from a different dimension."

"But that's _crazy, _Zex. We've been to hundreds of worlds so far and, y'know, I think by now we'd have found this other Organization, Thirteenth Order thing, whatever, if they were really from another dimension!"

The other Zexion drove his palm into his face and muttered something that sounded an awful lot like an expletive. Zexion, however, couldn't get angry at Demyx even if this was a less-than-perfect alternate version of his perfect lover. Demyx's cluelessness was always so...endearing. Sometimes it frustrated him, but mostly it made him love, and want to protect, Demyx all the more

Since the other Zexion didn't look like he wanted to explain anytime soon, Zexion spoke up--for both the other Demyx's benefit, and his own. "You are confusing 'world' with 'dimension.' Or should I say, 'universe,' if that helps it make more sense."

"Huh? What? What?" A vein was twitching in the other's temple.

"Zexion..." Demyx said, tugging on his sleeve again. "Please, explain this...I'm sorry, but I really don't understand."

"That's perfectly all right," Zexion said, offering him an indulgent smile. "Now, listen." He was addressing both of them now. "We do not travel between universes. I presume that your 'Organization' is no different. You go to different worlds, yes, but they are all worlds within your universe, not separate dimensions."

"Think of it like...like...like marbles in a jar," the other Zexion said. "The worlds are the marbles, but the jar is the overall universe. Naturally, this isn't a perfect analogy."

"But it works for our purposes," Zexion said, encouraged that the other was actually helping. "We can only travel to the marbles--the worlds--within the jar, but not outside of it. It's of my understanding that Vexen, back when he was up to such things of course, was interested in figuring out a way to travel through the barriers between the universes--the glass separating the two jars from one another. Of course, he didn't succeed, but it seems...it seems that we have."

All this talk about marbles and jars seemed to be finally sinking into the Demyxes' skulls. His Demyx nodded first, in an endearingly bird-like gesture. "Yeah, I think I get it. So we're...we're different versions of each other, basically? Um, from different universes? And maybe there are a lot of different versions of us out there..."

Zexion's eyes traveled involuntarily towards the framed picture hanging above the bed--a copy of the one of the stage magician Zexion and Renaissance minstrel Demyx. Perhaps they had been this cafe's previous occupants.

Perhaps...perhaps every picture on the cafe walls depicted a version of him and Demyx from another universe.

The thought made shivers run down his spine; he worked hard to suppress it. Yet it pleased him as well. So he and Demyx had a bond so deep that it transcended universes. Perhaps that was the natural way for the both of them--to always gravitate together, no matter what. No matter the different kinds of relationships they ended up cultivating...

"And we always end up together," the other Zexion said, voicing Zexion's thoughts aloud. "Hmm...I wonder what that means?" He addressed this slyly towards his Demyx.

"It doesn't mean a damned _thing." _The other Demyx stood up sharply, his expression colder than any Zexion had ever seen before--especially from _Demyx, _of all people. But no, this wasn't the Demyx he so loved... "Okay? So they're other versions of us, all right. But that doesn't mean anything. There's no way I've got anything to do with _those _freaks."

"Demyx--!" shouted the other Zexion.

"Hey, take that back!" Much to Zexion's surprise, Demyx surged to his feet as well, glowering at his double. He looked more livid than Zexion had ever seen him before.

"I won't," the other Demyx said icily. "'Cause it's _true. _Now, I'm gonna go to sleep. Don't wake me up until next morning."

"Demyx, you--there's no point to antagonizing them, we must work together--" his Zexion shouted, trying to grab the other Demyx's arm to keep him from leaving. The other Demyx threw his grip away with a look of disgust, before giving his Zexion a sharp push that sent him colliding into the bed.

"What was that for?" he shouted.

"G'night, Zexy," the other Demyx said, offering him a sarcastic wave before slamming the door shut behind him.

Everyone else could only stare.

* * *

Hopefully, the alternate universe explanation made sense. That's always been the way I thought of the KH universe, but it may not be exactly canon. By this point the canon's become so hopelessly confusing that I wonder if there even is a set "canon" anymore.

Said rock opera that seme!Demyx mentions is _Broken Bride, _by Ludo, a truly epic story about a man who builds a time machine to bring his wife back to life. Of course a one sentence summary can't give any justice to such a haunting and beautiful story, so go check it out on Youtube. ^^ Not to mention it's some frakkin' good music. And a less obscure reference is the entire city taking inspiration from Citagazze in _His Dark Materials. _

Future updates will be _much _slower in coming. I have an Academic Decathlon tournament this Friday and I need to study very hard for it if I hope to perform semi-decently. So no updates until...maybe Sunday, if you're lucky.

Again, comment on the crack as you wish.


	4. Someone Knows More Than Us

**Through a Mirror, Darkly**

(AKA, "unoriginal title is unoriginal")

_They were two pairs from two worlds. They might have appeared the same, but they thought they were too different to find any common ground. Until they were forced to work together. Zemyx, Dexion_

Warnings: Yaoi, graphic scenes abuse, S&M, seme!Zexion and uke!Zexion, seme!Demyx and uke!Demyx (...don't ask), a fat load of weirdness and craziness overall. Please don't take any of this shit seriously.

Yaaay! Finally an update!

As for my Decathlon...um, well, I could have done better. That is all I'll say. Needless to say I won't be focusing so much on fanfiction anymore, so expect further updates to be very sporadic. At least until after the state competition.

It took me a while to even get back into a Kingdom Hearts mood for this story, and I don't think that I successfully did return to the mood I was when I pumped out the first three chapters. I still like Kingdom Hearts, always will, but I'm not really "feeling" it right now, if you get what I mean (sorry...I can't really explain it). A lot of this comes from reading a ton of comics in the two weeks since I last updated. A _ton. _And lo and bejoy, I have fallen _hard _in love with comics now, especially Batman comics. So this is my current obsession, and it's a bit hard to return to the magic and light aesthetic of Kingdom Hearts after dark and gritty Batman.

Hahaha, speaking of Batman, I do have plans to write some fanfiction now for the comics. XD I'm pretty new to the fandom so I'm not fully aware of all the continuity and whatnot, so I'm a bit afraid to start writing for fear of mangling continuity... In particular, I've fallen very hard in love with the Riddler and the Scarecrow and especially the two of them together. :D I do believe I have a new OTP. I've been scrounging high and low for comics featuring them, but my local bookstores are pitifully supplied (though they have tons of manga! GRRRR) and I live quite far from the nearest half-decent comics store. So if anyone has any recommendations, I'll be happy to seek them out once I come into contact with some money.

On this chapter--I _feel _this is the longest chapter I've written for this story to date. Then again, as I said before, terrible judge so who knows. I also feel this is the worst written chapter. It rambles a lot at the beginning, so the climax at the end is a bit rushed. If I ever feel like revising this fic, this chapter will probably be the first one I'll majorly fix.

* * *

4. Someone Knows More Than Us

"Is he...is he always like this?"

"Excuse me?" Zexion jumped and dropped his spoon into the pot of soup he'd been stirring.

"Oh--oh no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--" the voice said again, the voice that sounded exactly like Demyx's--but wasn't. The other Demyx stood to his right, his hands lifted apologetically, looking almost afraid.

Afraid of _him. _That thought made him want to choke, whether from laughter or indignity, he couldn't tell. He turned resolutely back to the boiling pot, sighing to himself as he contemplated how to retrieve the spoon.

It was evening now. A heavy, black and silent evening in the empty city, the kind of evening that could unnerve even those without emotions. And yet it felt like Demyx had stormed out--away from _him_--only moments ago. The rest of the day had barely happened; it was all a haze to Zexion. So it seemed one instant he was still reeling from the force of Demyx's push, the next he was standing in the living area's small kitchen, preparing dinner alongside the other Demyx.

How strange--a Demyx who could cook. And a Zexion who couldn't. His other self had participated in slicing the vegetables, with rather more flourish than Zexion thought necessary, but had then retreated from actually doing any cooking, stating that he simply didn't have a culinary mind. Zexion's head reeled at the thought. But on another level, it made sense in a somewhat amusing way; never trust the _man _in the relationship to cook.

Zexion sighed again; the steam from the pot was beginning to puff up his hair, quite unpleasant. But then the other Demyx shuffled closer, forcing him to squeeze to the side, and reached into the pot. The boiling liquid parted around his hand and he fished out the sopping spoon, handing it to Zexion with an awkward smile.

"Sorry..." he said. "Here you go."

My, my, wasn't _this _Demyx apologetic. Come to think of it, _his _Demyx had never once actually apologized for anything.

"Thank you," Zexion said frigidly, acceping the spoon and trying to flinch from how hot it was. "What were you saying?"

"Ummm...uhh..." The other Demyx scratched his head, still grinning awkwardly. Zexion felt a surge of dislike. "Well...I just...I mean, the other me. Is he always...like this with you?"

"Like what?" Zexion said in a deadpan, though he knew full well what that Demyx meant.

"Like...the way he was before," the other Demyx said. He looked rather nervous now and kept on shooting glances at his Zexion, who was sitting at the kitchen table, intently perusing his lexicon. Sitting back and reading while the other two sweated over the stovetop...so this version of him was apparently quite lazy. Zexion felt his already low opinion of him sink into the depths.

"Oh?" Zexion found himself unsconsiously rubbing his shoulder, where Demyx had pushed him. _Pushed _him...certainly Demyx could be a little abrupt with him at times, but he'd never before resorted to using force. "Well, he was probably tired. He gets cranky when he's tired. Doesn't anyone?"

Well, not the most clever thing to say. But right now, he was less focused on delivering dry wit than on trying to prevent his pot from boiling over.

"Umm, okay, sure," the other Demyx said.

"He isn't one to get angry easily," Zexion continued. He had no idea why he was even talking, and about such personal matters too--but he couldn't help but run his mouth. "No, he...mostly treats me well."

_Yes, well. He treats you "well" so long as he's not flat-out ignoring you after sex. So long as he's not running around chatting with Xigbar when you're standing by his side. So long as he doesn't forget to show up for a date._

_But I suppose what goes around comes around. I...I treat him no differently._

"_He _treats me well too, you know," the other Demyx said, sounding strangely annoyed.

Zexions stared back at him, at first not knowing what he was talking about. Then he realized that the other Demyx was glancing at the other Zexion, and it clicked. Though it rather struck him as a non sequitur.

He snorted. "Oh, really."

"Yeah, really." The other Demyx put his fists on his hips; the gesture made Zexion's throat tighten, for some strange reason. Perhaps because it was so...familiar. It was exactly the sort of petulant thing _his _Demyx would do.

_Along with carelessly shoving aside the person he's supposed to be in a relationship with._

"And why are you discussing this with me?" he said, gazing at the other Demyx through half-closed eyes.

"Because..." The other Demyx paused a bit, as if to collect his thoughts. Then, a little scowl crossing his face, which was so much like Demyx's but so _different _too, he said, "Because I get the feeling you really don't like me. Don't like _us."_

Zexion snorted. "I am a Nobody, I cannot--"

"I mean it."

Something about this situation felt horribly familiar--perhaps because he had had far too many similar arguments with his own Demyx before. He realized with a strange sickening jolt that the other Demyx gazing--no, _glaring_--at him right then and there was in a way, one and the same as the Demyx with whom he was supposed to be in a relationship. He had that same penetrating stare, the same narrow-eyed, thin-lipped expression that invited no argument.

_How does he let that one _dominate _him? _Zexion thought in fascination.

"Very well, then," he said. "You are correct. I do _not _like you. But I especially do not like him."

"Why? Because you think he hurts me?"

"Because he _does."_

"So? He never hurts me more than I can handle...aww, hell. I can't explain it. I can't explain...it just is." The other Demyx lowered his head and sighed; his voice had started quavering slightly. "It just is. But I love him. I _know _I love him, that's a damned fact. And he loves me."

Love. Love couldn't exist between Nobodies. They had no emotions to feel it. This was common knowledge, _basic _knowledge. Yet here was this version of Demyx, standing in front of him and professing his love for Zexion, his eyes glittering and his voice entirely--_sincere. _Zexion's head spun. He couldn't...this couldn't be.

He tried to deny the fierce ache in that empty place in his chest where his heart once had been. Love! He didn't care if Demyx "loved" him or not. He was with Demyx only for the nights together, wasn't that all? That was all Nobodies could have, all that they were _allowed _to have.

"That's nonsense," he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

"Okay," the other Demyx said. "Go ahead and say that. Doesn't change what I feel, what _he _feels." He paused, and then said, sounding almost sympathetic, "You...you two haven't got anything like that, have you..."

"No!" Zexion said fiercely. "And I wouldn't want it!"

"Then you don't know what you're missing," the other Demyx said.

He sounded so...so damnably _smug. _It took Zexion a second to even realize it; he had never conceived of Demyx as a particularly smug person. Immature and petty and whiny, yes, but never the type to have an inflated opinion of himself. So it struck Zexion as doubly bizarre that _this _Demyx, this strange submissive creature, would be speaking in a tone better suited for Vexen (or, he had to admit, himself).

So, out of confusion, he reacted not with the logic of which he was usually so proud, but with the vindictiveness he'd show after he grew too exasperated at a gloating Vexen. "I don't believe I'm missing much, honestly," he said sardonically. "Sticking needles into a person like he is a pincushion, well--I will leave that to the actual freaks."

It was wrong, all wrong--hadn't he himself told Demyx that they had to get along with their counterparts if they wished to survive? But it was too late to take back the words. The other Demyx jerked as if he'd been slapped and his face flooded scarlet. He rocked slightly back and forth on the spot, his throat convulsing as if he wanted to speak, but no words were coming to him. All of the smug confidence had long vanished.

_And all the better, _Zexion thought fiercely.

A furious burst of hissing and splashing snapped both of their attentions away from each other. Zexion whirled around towards the stovetop, cursing aloud, while the other Demyx squeaked like a frightened schoolgirl.

The other Zexion stood and clapped his lexicon shut. "Well, well," he said in a tone of barely disguised displeasure. "Look what you've done. A watched pot never boils, that much is true, but if you don't pay _any _attention it will boil over. Now what are we going to eat?"

It took all of Zexion's self-restraint to avoid punching his double in the face.

* * *

"I really don't like him, Zexion," Demyx whined.

"You are preaching to the choir here," Zexion said. "I dislike him as well. _Both _of them, but him even moreso. I would never be so weak..."

Once again he found himself thinking about that incident in the morning (goodness, had it really been that recent? It felt like days had passed since then). How that other Demyx had so callously pushed his double aside...he had almost snapped a harsh reprimand at Demyx, but of course had to remind himself that this wasn't _his _Demyx. He had no right to meddle with their relationship, as infuriating as it might be.

Luckily that Demyx had gone to sleep and hadn't woken up yet. Good riddance. The other Zexion, however, had insisted on hanging around the two of them for the rest of the day, during which they at first tried fortifying the cafe by shoving tables and chairs against the doors and windows, but seeing no monsters anywhere near, decided against wasting that effort, and mostly lounged around doing whatever they wished (which, for the other Zexion, seemed to amount to musing at empty air about "alliances" and "doing what's best for us all"). And then came dinner, which hadn't been a complete disaster despite the soup boiling over, and now...

Well, he was looking forward to calling it a night. With his lovely and innocent Demyx by his side.

"He's a jerk." Demyx would not be dissuaded from ranting on this subject. "A big fat jerk. Y'know, he called the two of us freaks!"

"After all that talk about 'getting along,' too," Zexion said with a little snicker. "Perhaps that's why those two gravitated towards each other. Birds of a feather..."

It felt a bit surreal, badmouthing what was essentially himself and Demyx. But _not _himself and Demyx. He squeezed Demyx's hand, and smiled to himself when Demyx responded with a squeak of delight. It made sense, though. He was rarely so overtly affectionate, especially before sex. But today, he felt as if he had something to prove. To _those _two. Those crass fools who, following in the pattern of seemingly every universe, ended up together--but didn't share an ounce of what _he _and _his _Demyx had.

"Good boy," he said, his smile widening as he reached out and patted Demyx's cheek. Then, lowering his voice and leaning in close, he whispered," I love you."

"Oh, Zexion." Demyx's eyes were shining with delight. "I--I love you too. I swear, I--"

"You don't have to swear anything," Zexion mumbled, wrapping his arms around Demyx's waist and pulling him close, so that he was smelling nothing but Demyx's comforting tang of sea salt and sweetness. It was a relief, after the unnerving blankness of the rest of the city. "I know you're sincere. I know..."

He dug his hands into the small of Demyx's back, tightly enough to hurt; Demyx squeaked aloud, but returned the embrace. More gently, of course, linking his hands behind Zexion's neck and resting his chin on Zexion's shoulder. He was so...warm. So alive. Zexion held him tight and refused to let go.

He would never push his Demyx away. Yes, he would stick needles into him. Yes, he would slice patterns into his skin with a razor blade. Yes, he would hold a lighter to his arm and watch the skin bubble and redden as it burned. But he would never push Demyx aside with such disarming callousness. Never turn his back on him and snap a hasty goodnight. Never. He _loved _Demyx, and that meant lavishing his all on Demyx. Everything he had. Even if others might call it twisted, freakish. It was all that he had and he would give it all to Demyx--and this was how those without hearts loved.

A pity the others couldn't see that. Or perhaps, all the better for him and his Demyx. The _proper _Zexion and Demyx.

"Mm Zexion," Demyx mumbled. "I love you, I love you so much--"

"I know you do," Zexion said softly, his voice barely a croon. He squeezed, firmly, and was rewarded with a little whimper from Demyx. "I know. And I--"

Someone screamed and thudded rapidly down the stairs.

"What? What is it now?" snapped Zexion, spinning towards the staircase, though he didn't release Demyx. The two of them had gone downstairs for some privacy, sitting at a table and trying to avoid staring at the pictures on the walls. He assumed the other two had fallen asleep by now (well, the other Demyx had long been asleep), but apparently not. That scream...

The other Zexion stopped at the base of the stairs, breathing hard, his hands on his knees.

"Where?" he hissed when he'd regained his breath, looking wildly around the cafe. "Where the hell is he? _Where?"_

"What are you going on about?" Zexion snarled, pulling Demyx closer to him (above Demyx's squeaked protest).

"Demyx!" shouted the other Zexion, gesturing like a madman, or perhaps a particularly enthusiastic politician giving a speech. "Demyx! Where the hell _is _he?"

"Sleeping, I would assume," Zexion said, raising an eyebrow. Dammit. Had this fool interrupted his and Demyx's moment for _this? _

"No, he's not. He _isn't, _you--" Several deep and shuddering breaths, and then the other Zexion straightened and, marginally calmer, continued speaking. "He is not sleeping. I looked. He is not in his room. He's...the window is open."

He gazed directly into Zexion's eyes, his expression hard and wracked with a sort of cruel emotion that Zexion couldn't identify--nor did he want to. That kind of _hurt_...no one should have to ever experience it. Not even someone as annoying as his alternate universe counterpart.

"He is gone," the other Zexion said, and he could no longer hide the shaking in his voice.

* * *

The city felt somehow safer in the nighttime. Demyx couldn't explain it, and it didn't make much sense. After all, night was usually when the criminals and monsters came out to play. But he'd been wandering around the city's snaking streets for what had to be an hour already and hadn't encountered anything like the wave of monsters the four of them had fought earlier that morning. In fact, he hadn't encountered _anything _living. This was, by all means, a place that ought to be lit up at night with the warm golden glow of lamps and flashing neon signs, while couples moved together to fast-paced music. But the silence hung thick and heavy and almost tangible in the air, and the windows remained stubbornly dark and empty.

So creepy...he wondered where all the people had gone. But then again, if they were all versions of him and Demyx...he kind of felt glad that they weren't here.

The night air was warm against his face and brought with it the faint smell of salt. The ocean. He was heading closer to it, that he knew, even though he couldn't see it yet. He hadn't initially set out to find the ocean, that was true--in fact, he had no idea why he had left his room in the first place. Just...he'd awoken with his face pressed against the rough sheets, and the room cast in a deeper darkness than even the perpetual black of Never Was' black sky. The window had been open, and the curtain had been whispering with a faint breeze. Something about that breeze was just so tempting. He knew it wasn't wise to wander around the streets of an unfamiliar city at night, especially once inhabited only by monsters, but he needed to get away from the cloying atmosphere inside the cafe. It was too hot, too laden with doubts and anger and hard feelings.

He'd considered leaving a note for Zexion, but decided against it. Part of him was still feeling very petty indeed.

He stopped to get his bearings; he'd been heading intently southeast, figuring that was where the ocean's smell, and the faint sound of waves, was coming from. Not to mention the direction from which he'd glimpsed a band of something glimmering in the distance. It had to be starlight reflecting off the sea, though he couldn't see any stars through the thick darkness.

Eventually his eyesight had adjusted, and so had his nerves. Before, he'd been tightly clutching his sitar and glancing around every nook and cranny, every spot even the slightest bit darker than the surrounding night, for fear of a monster suddenly leaping out and attacking him. He'd heard something scurrying and had immediately attacked it with a gout of water. It turned out to have been a mouse.

After an hour and no monsters, though, Demyx decided it was okay to relax his guard a little. He was still carrying his sitar, but he wasn't so paranoid anymore. He'd seen a few more mice but nothing bigger, and nothing more dangerous.

The ocean's smell was almost overpowering now. He stopped briefly in the middle of a vast boulevard, breathing in deeply, smelling that rejuvenating and mysterious mix of salt and seaweed and something deeper and more powerful and more inexplicable, and listening to the repetetive roll and crash of waves. The ocean. So there was _one _good thing about this world. He would have to persuade the others to move their base somewhere closer to the ocean.

He strode forward, smiling confidently, passing grand hotels looming like disapproving sentinels on either side of him. This was a wealthier part of town, filled with wide boulevards, shady trees,stretches of parkland, and swanky hotels and manors. Of course. The fat cats always made sure they had the best property.

But now they weren't here anymore. Demyx walked further and further ahead--and the ocean came into view.

Dispelling his sitar, he stepped onto the low whitewashed stone wall dividing the stretch of higher land he'd been walking through from a gleaming whitesand beach beneath it, to better admire the view. The ocean was rolling slowly, drawing back and lunging forward like a beast feinting an attack. A beautiful and ancient black beast. With each fresh crash of wave, there came a burst of white seafoam and more of the sea's refreshing scent washed over Demyx. For a while, he remained atop the wall, watching the vast ocean moving leisurely and inexorably. It felt it'd been forever since he'd seen a proper ocean--though he supposed it would have a better effect if there was a moon to illuminate the rolling waves.

It wasn't hard to leap from the low wall into the sand. It was good sand, fine and white and soft to the touch. He removed his gloves and bent down to retrieve a fistful, marveling in the silky softness of the finely eroded grains against his skin. For a while he crouched there and let the sand slide through his fingers, but he supposed he had more interesting things to do than play with sand. Fun as it might be...he'd come here for the ocean.

He straightened and strode towards the ocean, though not before removing his coat and boots. He thought of taking off his clothes altogether--certainly he'd skinny-dipped plenty of times before--but he felt strangely self-conscious. Even though he know that no one was around to watch him...

As he neared the water, he couldn't contain himself anymore--he broke out into a run, laughing like an idiot and kicking up a trail of sand behind him. He didn't care if he looked stupid--after all, no one was watching. He was running a bit faster than he'd have liked, partly because the beach had a slight slope which he hadn't noticed until now. So when he reached the slick sand at the edge of the water, he lost his balance, windmilling his arms frantically and shouting in a _very _manly manner as he fell face forward into the water.

The waves retreated as if they were disgusted by his presence, and he lay in the wet sand, winded for a bit--until the waves rushed back towards him, drenching him in shockingly cold water. He sputtered indignantly but couldn't stay angry for long. It was the ocean, after all.

Drawing himself to a standing position, he tentatively walked forward so that he was up to his knees in the ocean. It was all he could do to keep from gritting his teeth against the cold. Since the night air was warm and moist, he'd been expecting the ocean to be similarly warm, but apparently not. He was quite sure that he was turning blue from cold, and the further he walked into the gently surging waves, the more numb his legs became.

It wasn't right. Just like the rest of this world. Sighing, Demyx summoning a little gout of water and formed it into intricate shapes in front of him. The water glistened black in a nonexistant light. With a flick of his wrist, he dispelled it and sent the droplets cascading back into the rolling ocean, where they vanished without a trace.

He supposed he ought to just turn around and go now. He was soaked to the skin and shivering and uncomfortable. The ocean was just another letdown in a long string of letdowns. Well, it wasn't much like him to be this morose, but something about the darkness and the perpetual thrum of the rolling ocean seemed to demand it.

He turned to go--and light flared behind him.

Much to his shame, Demyx screamed aloud as he fell into the ocean again, getting a mouthful of icy salt water. He scrabbled blindly at empty air for _something _to anchor himself--it was so damnably _bright, _he couldn't see anything but dancing black and white spots, couldn't smell the ocean anymore even, could only smell ozone--

Ozone. Like the light that had brought him to this bizarre world in the first place. Shielding his eyes with his hand, he blinked several times to adjust to the flood of blinding light, ignoring the sting as tears coursed down his face. Eventually, his eyes adjusted, and out of the swirling mass of light and dark, he made out--

A figure. _Someone. _Someone floating serenely above the ocean, emitting a painfully bright, and painfully familiar, glow. It was so bright, so harshly white, that he could barely see the figure through it. he might as well have been staring at a smudge of light in a landscape of dark, casting everything in a sharp contrast of light and shadows. But as he focused harder on the blinding light, he could begin to make out some details. The figure was slender, and appeared to be female, but he couldn't tell exactly. If he stared at it for too long, he felt that he would go blind.

"_Hello," _the figure said, in a voice that rolled in Demyx's ears like the waves, yet bore a trace of lightness and wind to it as well. He couldn't tell if it was a male or female voice. It just _was_. "_Welcome to my domain."_

"Who..." Demyx choked when he managed to get the breath to speak. "Who the hell are you?"

He thought the figure smiled, but he couldn't be so certain. It moved a little closer to him, taking mincing steps through the air. The light fell harshly on him, making him feel tiny, insignificant, exposed. Like nothing. The nothing that he was truly was.

"_I am the master of this world," _the figure said. "_And I am the one who brought you here."_

"What? What--really?" For the first time, indignity overpowered Demyx's awe and fear. Lurching to a standing position (as much as he could when water was weighing down his leather pants), he shouted, "And why would you do that, huh? Throwing us into this crazy place, attacking us with monsters, why the hell would you wanna do _that? _You'd better explain yourself--"

The waves rushed forward, knocking Demyx off his feet. He shouted as he fell on his back into the wet sand and the icy water burned against his bare skin. For a terrifying second the water completely closed around his face and he gagged and choked on it, but then it cleared and he was lying weakly in the sand of the beach, soaked to the skin and coughing and sputtering.

This wasn't right. Water was _his _domain. He shouldn't be so frightened of it like this...

"_Do not question me," _the master of the world said, floating towards him. He thought she seemed almost happy. "_You have no rights here. You--all of you--are my playthings. And I'll do whatever I wish with you."_

"Is that--is that so, huh?" hissed Demyx, letting his anger speak for him again. "And _why _are you doing all this?"

"_You're questioning me again." _Her tone was suffused with disapproval; for a moment she burned brighter, like a camera flash, so that Demyx screamed aloud and had to turn away, his head spinning and nausea rising in his throat. The master of the world giggled, a chord of rising notes. "_I don't like being questioned."_

"Yeah, so, what am I supposed to believe, then?" Demyx snapped. He didn't dare look at her, but instead stared at the rippling water harshly illuminated by her light. "You brought us here for the shits and giggles? You're the reason we're here in the first place so you might as well explain just why the hell you _did _all this! What's so important about us? Huh? And what the hell are you anyway? And what is this place?"

He was babbling and he knew it, but he couldn't do anything else to suppress the bubble of panic rising in that empty space in his chest. If he didn't keep talking he would _choke _on it, he knew. "Why why why why _why_--"

"_Isn't it obvious?" _Another giggle. "_Why _do _you think I brought the four of you here? The _four _of you. You and your lover; your counterpart and his lover. Why?"_

"Dammit, just give me a straight answer," Demyx growled. A part of him that still had a sense of self-preservation said that it was not good to piss off what was essentially this world's god, but the rest of him told that part to STFU.

"_Oh, you haven't much of a mind, have you? Pity. I know some versions of you that can be _quite _the intellectual. I suppose you aren't, though."_

_Some versions? _Once again, Demyx found himself thinking about all those weird pictures all over the cafe, and the monsters with his and Zexion's faces...he trembled violently though he didn't know why.

_"You believe that your relationship with him is important, don't you?" _the master of the world said, spreading her arms wide. "_Yet the other one, the other you, believes that _his _relationship with _his _is even more important. So I ask--which one of you is right? And this is what I have set out to prove."_

"Huh? What?" Demyx didn't like the direction she was going, yet he couldn't exactly understand it. No, he did...he knew full well what she was saying, what her words were leading up to. But it was too--much too horrible to accept. His mind objected to it because it could do nothing else.

"_You should find it easy, Demyx," _the master of the world said. She gestured dramatically beneath her, and the waves began to roil violently, as if a monster from the deep was rising from beneath them. Demyx scrambled backwards, onto the sand of the beach, not caring when the grains stuck to his soaked skin. "_After all, you dislike those two, don't you. You believe that they aren't genuine, they aren't the real thing, not like you and your Zexion are, don't you? They're _impostors.

"_And this, Demyx," _she said, rising high in the air, casting her harsh glow over the entire beach and illuminating, all too brightly, the creatures beginning to rise from the churning sea--the twisted monsters that reminded him too much of himself and Zexion-- "_This is why I brought you here. And this is the only way that you can ever discover the secrets of this world. THe only way that you ever _leave _this world. Four of you came into this world. Only two of you will leave. So--you must fight, Demyx. You and your Zexion; him and his Zexion. Fight."_

Her voice rise to a majestic rumble, the creatures advanced upon Demyx--he couldn't crawl away fast enough, there were so many of them, the huge zombies and the winged pteradons and the slimy little fetuses and other creatures, creatures like sharks and whales that walked on legs on land, _and they all had his face_--

"_Fight them to prove once and for all, which is the real Zexion and Demyx."_

* * *

Dun dun! Finally some plot comes into being. And we have a villain!

There is actually a hidden, overarching meaning behind this entire story. I'll explain it at the end of the last chapter, and it'll make you cry because you'll realize that this story truly is crack and _nothing _in it has ever been serious. And you will never be able to look on this story in the same way again. MUAH HA HA HA HA.

Six more chapters to go. We'll see if I can pump them out. In the meantime, I'm going to go find Batman comics to read. And sob because I have no money with which to buy them.

Again, I plug my fictionpress, though I'm not sure if I want to finish _Most Perfect Servant _now or not. We'll see.


	5. Better Company Is to Be Had

**Through a Mirror, Darkly**

(AKA, "unoriginal title is unoriginal")

_They were two pairs from two worlds. They might have appeared the same, but they thought they were too different to find any common ground. Until they were forced to work together. Zemyx, Dexion_

Warnings: Yaoi, graphic scenes, abuse, S&M, seme!Zexion and uke!Zexion, seme!Demyx and uke!Demyx (...don't ask), a fat load of weirdness and craziness oveall. Please don't take any of this shit seriously.

A Valentine's Day update, and appropriately, this chapter is probably the most overtly romantic of all the chapters so far. Aren't you lucky at how quickly I'm working. With this chapter, we are now halfway through.

It's also Chinese New Year, so I have finally come into contact with a good amount of money. ^^ Love those red envelopes. So who knows, I might be able to splurge on comics now. I just have to figure out which ones I want to buy...

This is another chapter that didn't turn out quite like I wanted it because the beginning scene took so long to set up. I'm really sad at how I keep turning out long chapters, when initially I planned to use a more minimalistic style for this story. It seems that minimalist and me don't mix, and that makes me sad. So if I ever feel so inclined to, this is probably another chapter I'll go back and change.

Listen to "Hikari" or "Simple and Clean" when reading this story. You'll _really _know which scene the songs apply to when you reach it.

* * *

5. Better Company Is to Be Had

Zexion couldn't explain, really, why he felt so--_betrayed. _It shouldn't matter. Demyx was just taking a midnight stroll, that was all. He did this often, disappearing in the nights to do who-the-hell-knew-what. And Zexion tolerated it all, because it was a part of living with Demyx. _God grant me the serenity..._

But this wasn't a typical night in The World That Never Was. This was an unfamiliar world, an unfamiliar world populated by _monsters. _Fine time for that idiot to decide to take a stroll! Zexion, despite himself, kept on imagining Demyx getting torn into pieces by the cruel claws of the flying monsters, or smashed to a pulp by the zombie monsters...

He was hyperventilating and panicking and screaming and gesturing like a madman, he knew it all, and he _couldn't fucking stop. _The embarrassment of having the other two stare at him like he was a zoo animal acting up ought to be enough to restore prudence to his skull, but hardly. Au contraire, their blank stares just made him panic harder. And act even _more _insane.

"Don't just stand there like _idiots! _Idiots! Don't stand there, don't, _don't_--we must do something, we _must_--who knows what's happen to him, he--oh Kingdom Hearts, if anything happens to him it's my fault--"

And it was. It was true he did nothing but follow in Demyx's lead--so long as that didn't require him expending any more effort than was absolutely necessary. The two could barely be said to have a relationship. They just had sex when it was convenient, and held hands and exchanged sweet-nothings when they felt like it (mostly to show off to other Organization members, Axel and Saix especially). What they did in between the times they met was their own business.

Their relationship began and ended in the bedroom. It really wasn't a relationship at all.

"If anything happens, anything happens, anything happens," he was repeating like a gibbering goldfish. He knew he looked like an utter idiot but he couldn't make himself stop. Speaking was the only way to keep him sane. To keep himself from acknowledging the truth behind him and Demyx, which was horrifyingly simple:

_There is no such thing as "me and Demyx."_

"Calm down, you fool," the other Zexion hissed, stepping forward. "Don't just stand there gibbering. Start from the beginning! Explain!"

"Go to hell!" Zexion shouted back, _very _maturely. "I haven't got time to be interrogated! If you're not going to help me, stuff it!"

The other Zexion looked absolutely livid. He stepped forward, raising an arm as if to summon his lexicon, but the other Demyx stepped in front of him. "Wait, Zexion!" he shouted.

"What's this?" the other Zexion said. "Are you _defying _me?"

"No, Zexion, please, I promise--" The other Demyx had gone pale, but he continued speaking. Zexion had to admit a bit of grudging respect for him. _Finally _he'd grown a spine! "Listen," and this was aimed at Zexion himself, "please, calm down. If you're calm we can help you. Tell us what happened--you said the, the other me, that one, he's gone? Was he kidnapped or something--"

"No." Zexion shook his head. He was feeling marginally calmer, despite himself. Then again, one who felt no emotions couldn't sustain panic for long. "He, he...he just left. He does this, quite often. But I thought he'd be intelligent enough _not _to in the middle of--a place like this."

"Perhaps you ought to keep him on a tighter leash," the other Zexion said, quite smugly.

Zexion did not want to concede that he was right.

"So, umm." The other Demyx was continuing his efforts at being helpful. "So, he just...left like that? Any idea where he went?"

"If I _had _an idea I'd be out searching for him!" Zexion shouted. The other Demyx flinched and backed off, mumbling an apology. Something akin to guilt knotted in his stomach; of course this other Demyx would be afraid of him, given what his counterpart was like. He'd told himself he would never hurt Demyx; well, didn't that apply to other versions of Demyx, much as he might dislike?

"Forgive me," he said as calmly as he could, which wasn't very calm. "I didn't mean to shout...but I do mean it. I have no idea where he is."

"Hmm," the other Zexion said, sounding supremely peeved. "Assuming he hasn't been eaten by a monster--"

"Don't you _dare _joke about that!" Zexion shouted, moving without thinking. One instant he'd been standing at the base of the stairs, furiously facing the other two--the next, he was across the room and his knuckles were stinging and his fist was raised, and the other Zexion had fallen in an ungraceful head on the ground, wiping blood from his mouth.

"_Zexion!" _shrieked the other Demyx, falling to his Zexion's side and shaking him. "Oh no are you okay are you _okay?"_

"Unhand me and I will be," the other Zexion growled, fixing Zexion with eye daggers. Zexion happily returned his glare.

"Now, will you take this more seriously?" he said.

The other Zexion's glare only became more sour. His Demyx had long stopped touching him and was standing several steps behind him, looking at him with an expression of pained helplessness. Somehow, seeing that expression on his face made Zexion want to simultaneously laugh and throttle him.

A very familiar voice screamed from outside.

"_Zexy! Zex-iii-onnn!!!"_

Zexion whirled around, the breath catching in his throat. _Demyx's _voice... And sure enough, there was Demyx right outside the cafe door, banging desperately on the glass. He wondered why Demyx didn't just open the damned door, but then realized that the door was barricaded by two tables. He immediately dashed towards the tables and began tugging at them, cursing how heavy they were. He couldn't remember how he'd summoned the strength to push them into place in the first place--then again, he'd had help.

And he had help now, much to his surprise. The other Demyx had dashed over to his side and was pushing aside the tables as well. Zexion appreciated the help more than he would ever admit, although the other Zexion, standing back and scowling at the scene, did not seem to approve. Zexion's already low estimation of his double sunk even further. He was quite certain that he himself was not so slothful!

Soon the two of them had cleared aside the barricade in front of the door, just in time for Demyx to swing it wide open. Zexion managed to dodge the rapidly swinging door in time, but the other Demyx wasn't so lucky. He cried out as the door slammed him directly in the face, sending him stumbling back. His Zexion was on him in an instant, wrapping his arms protectively around his shoulders and glaring eye daggers at Demyx.

_So, it only matters when someone _besides _you is hurting him, _Zexion thought nastily.

But then Demyx was filling up his vision, Demyx and his smell of sea salt and sweetness and _panic. _His eyes were wide, bloodshot. Strangely, he was missing his coat and boots, and was sopping wet (Zexion could see his hair gel forming trails down the back of his neck), and he was shaking Zexion by the shoulders.

"Zexion! Zexion! C'mon, c'mon, come with me, this is enough, I've had _enough, _I know now, I _know _now--"

"Demyx!" Zexion shouted, seizing Demyx's wrists and trying to pry them off his shoulders. He might as well have been trying to fight a tank. "Just what is the meaning of this? Why don't you talk sense for a change!"

"I mean--I mean, oh God." The next second, much to Zexion's shock and indignity, Demyx had pulled him up to his chest and wrapped a protective arm around his back. He writhed against Demyx's grip, but the other Nobody was surprisingly strong. He was facing the other two now, pointing an angry and accusing finger at them as they stared back blankly.

"I've had _enough," _he said, in a voice more terrible and cruel than any Zexion had heard from him before. "Working together with you lot--yeah, _right. _We should never have--that wasn't what we were supposed to do at all. I know it now. There's no way we're getting out of this freakshow of a world by getting _along _with them. We have to _fight _them, don't you see, Zexy?"

He was addressing Zexion now, tilting his chin up so they were eye-to-eye. In normal circumstances, Zexion would have been indignant at such treatment, but now he could do nothing but focus on Demyx's face, on his words, more grave and serious than he had ever seen and heard before.

"We have to fight them. To prove once and for all which is the real--_us. _Only two of us can leave this world."

"What--wherever--wherever did you get such an idea?" Zexion breathed, barely daring to speak. He didn't want to admit that the idea...it _appealed _to him on some level. And made so much sense, too.

"That's not important. What's important is that it's true." Demyx turned to face the others again, tightening his grip on Zexion. The other Zexion had pulled his Demyx close to him as well, and was now holding his lexicon. "We're going to fight."

"Fine by me," the other Zexion hissed, his pupils dilated with anger. "I've had enough of dealing with your insolence. Of course we four could never get along--and that is the way things should be."

The ground heaved, lurching like a horse trying to buck off its rider. Everyone fell--Zexion was aware of screaming, and he could hear the other two's indignant shouts--Demyx held him even tighter, cushioning his landing--

The ground was _splitting, _he saw. Breaking in two, in a narrow zigzagging line. From the sounds of crashing and groaning and tearing outside, it was happening everywhere. As if the entire world was breaking up...

* * *

"Zexion!" Demyx cried, panic fluttering in his chest like a bird in a cage. He squeezed Zexion's warm body with all his strength, afraid that if he let go he would tumble into the rapidly growing chasm separating him and his Zexion from the other two.

"Shh, it's all right, Demyx," whispered Zexion, offering him a slight and reassuring smile, before turning around to face the others. "Well, are you going to fight? Or are you too _afraid _to?"

"Like hell!" the other Demyx shouted back, summoning his sitar. Demyx's stomach tightened inside, despite himself. He hadn't seen this other Demyx fight much, that was true, but he was already quite certain that this Demyx was a better fighter than he was.

But he would do it. He _could _do it. For Zexion's sake. For Zexion, he'd dare anything.

The walls were splitting as well, groaning and creaking as they separated from each other. As they tore, the lights flickered and went out, drowning the room in the heaviest darkness Demyx had ever experienced. And he'd been to many of the worlds the Order had ruined. This was a darkness of a different type, the kind that not even the Heartless could command...

And then it was shattered by light. Brilliant white light, washing over the scene like a floodlight; Demyx squeaked and clung to Zexion's arm, momentarily blinded. Judging by the way Zexion stumbled and cursed, he was too.

A voice spoke through the blinding light, a voice that felt heavy and ancient yet light and flighty. He couldn't tell if it was male or female, young or old--it just _was._

_"This world is destroying itself. You must win your fights before it falls completely to the darkness."_

"Who? What?" Demyx squeaked. He was just so--_confused. _So much was happening and he didn't understand any of it. But Zexion was a constant, always. He would protect Demyx, that much he knew.

_"As for this current arrangement...it will not do."_

"Huh? Now what're you going on about?" he heard the other Demyx scream, his voice high with indignity.

Demyx dared to crack his eyes open slightly, but had to squeeze them shut again when the light flooded into his vision again, making his head ring. He could feel the ground heaving beneath his feet--between him and Zexion. Bile rose in his throat; he concentrated on clinging to Zexion for stability, and felt Zexion doing the same. Strangely, the thought made him smile, even in this situation. Zexion was depending on him just as much as he was depending on Zexion.

But though he was clinging as tightly as he could to Zexion, he could feel Zexion slipping away--no, not just Zexion, but himself, too. The ground was moving beneath his feet, moving _away _from Zexion. Panic flooded inside him when he realized this. He clung even tighter to Zexion's torso, but his hands were slipping away, inch by inch--he tried moving closer to Zexion, but lurched back in shock when he realized that if he stepped forward, he could feel no ground beneath his feet.

"Demyx!" Zexion was shouting. "It's--it's all right! Let go, let _go! _Keep holding on and we'll both fall!"

"But Zexion--" Demyx whimpered. No, he wouldn't accept this. He _wouldn't _let go of Zexion, even if the earth was breaking up beneath them, trying to separate them. No one would separate them!

"Let _go! _Demyx, I promise--I will return to you, and we'll both leave this world, _together. _Promise me, Demyx--do your best. Fight your best. You can do it, I know you can. I--I love you."

They were only holding hands now, and Demyx's arms were beginning to strain from the effort of reaching out. The distance between them was growing by the second... He felt tears streaking down his face, despite himself. He was so weak...

Zexion gave his hands a reassuring squeeze. "I love you," he whispered again. "Please, fight well."

"Don't ask me," Demyx said through his tears. "Don't _ask. _Please--order me. Zexion."

"Demyx..." Zexion's breath hitched. His hand had almost completely slipped out of Demyx's grip; they were barely brushing fingers now. "Very well then. Listen closely, Demyx. This is an order: fight him. And _win."_

"Thank you," Demyx whispered, and even managed a little smile, just before their hands broke apart.

* * *

A part of Demyx was grateful for the light that the master of the world, circling high above the heaving earth, provided--but most of him railed against her for it. After all, if it had been completely dark...then he wouldn't be able to see the gasping chasm between him and Zexion, growing wider and wider by the second.

He was clinging on to Zexion's hand as tightly as he could, and Zexion was clutching his hand as well, but both knew it wouldn't last. Already, Demyx's arm was aching ferociously; he felt very close to dislocating his shoulder. Still, he gritted his teeth against the pain and tightened his grip around Zexion's hand as much as possible. He knew inevitably he would have to let go, but for now...he had to hold on to Zexion. _His _Zexion. For as long as he could.

"Zexion," he shouted, above the cracking of the ground, the crash of fallen buildings, the rumble of thunder in the sky. "I--I'll come back to you. I promise."

Zexion stared back at him, his eyes wide, his face bloodless. It seemed to take him an eternity to speak, but it was probably less than a second. Time was passing more slowly for Demyx now.

"That is...the first time you have ever promised me anything."

"Oh, Zexion." Demyx felt his throat tighten; his limbs had started shaking, making it harder for him to hold on to Zexion's hand. "If...then...I won't--I won't break it. I swear."

"You don't have a good track record, you know," said Zexion, sounding deceptively calm, yet there was an edge to his voice that Demyx couldn't ignore.

"Zexion, c'mon--" Demyx couldn't believe that Zexion was going to argue with him right _now_--now, when both of them were straining just to touch fingers.

"But I don't doubt you," Zexion continued, and when he met Demyx's eyes, he had on the strangest expression that Demyx had ever seen on his face--a mixture of resignation, tenderness, and sadness. And something else, gleaming in his eyes, something that Demyx couldn't understand. Or...did he?

"I know," Demyx said. He was aware that their hands had slipped apart completely, but he still kept reaching out to Zexion, even as the chasm between them widened. He couldn't remove his eyes from Zexion's face. Not now. "I know. We'll--I swear, Zexy, we'll make it out together. That's--another promise."

"Don't break it," Zexion said, shouting now to be heard as the distance grew and grew. "Don't forget--don't--don't let me down. Demyx."

"You want a third promise?" Demyx smiled painfully, before offering Zexion a wink. At this distance, he wasn't sure Zexion could even see it. "All right, then. I won't let you down, Zexy. I promise. And--"

He could barely see Zexion anymore. He had to cup his hands around his mouth and shout as loud as he could in the hopes of being heard above the roaring wind and the sound of shattering. "_I'm sorry! For everything!"_

For everything, indeed. He knew it, more than anyone. How he had failed Zexion, kept on failing him. But he wouldn't anymore. He _had _to, if he wanted to prove to the two others that _they _were the real deal. He couldn't say for certain if he "loved" Zexion, but that didn't matter, did it?

He'd made three promises. He wasn't about to break them.

Slowly, Demyx turned around, summoning his sitar in a deluge of bubbles as he did so. The other Demyx faced him, trembling but resolute, his sitar summoned also.

"Dance, water, dance," Demyx said quietly, and dangerously.

* * *

Zexion lost track of how long he and the other one had been fighting. It could have been hours, or minutes. Or even days. he didn't know. All he knew was that they had been exchanging attacks as the piece of ground beneath them moved, rising high into the air like a tower, until they were surrounded on all sides by roiling storm clouds and forks of blinding lightning. Sometimes he heard the voice of the master of the world, but he could never be certain of what she was saying.

It seemed they had an audience. Dozens of the flyers were surrounding them, watching with mocking sneers. Zexion did his best to ignore them, as did the other one.

No, all that mattered was their fight. They fought with a fervor neither knew he possessed. Zexion, certainly, had never been one of the Order's most physically strong. He was the type to prefer manipulating events from the background. But for Demyx? He would do anything--yes, even fight--if it ensured Demyx's safety.

He attacked with flurries of pages that the other one countered by absorbing them in his lexicon. They cast powerful spells at one another, lighting up the dark sky with burts of fire, lightning, and ice. They created powerful illusions in which to entrap the other, illusions which they dispelled in turn. Zexion made the other one believe that his Demyx was dying, fading into darkness, and the other one couldn't do anything about it. The other Zexion returned the favor in kind.

Zexion didn't want to admit that they were about equally matched. Which made sense, they were essentially the same person. _But I'm better, _he thought fiercely. _He is a weak fool. I--I have Demyx. I have to protect Demyx..._

"Had enough?" hissed the other Zexion, flipping dramatically through the pages of his lexicon.

"Hardly," Zexion said. "You, on the other hand, seem to be wearing down quite a bit..."

"Is that so? You're clearly delusional," the other Zexion said. He raised his arm and his lexicon floated above him; he was poised to create another illusion. "Fall to the darkness!"

Zexion raised his lexicon as well, prepared to counter. This had been going on for quite some time, yes. But he'd keep hammering away for as long as it took.

For Demyx.

* * *

The other Demyx...was _strong._

A lot stronger than he was, at any rate. He did his best to dodge the massive pillars of water the other one kept summoning, and did his best to attack back when he had an opening, but his little gouts of water were no match for the powerful bursts the other one employed. Most of the fight had been spent with him dodging the other's attacks. When they hit, some of them knocked him clean off the platform on which they were fighting (which was the piece of ground on which they'd been standing before the earth split apart).

So it was a good thing that the platform was situated right above the ocean. Every time he landed in the ocean, he could use the water to cushion his fall and then send a wave towards the other one. Once, he'd succeeded in knocking the other one off the platform, but quickly regretted it when the other Demyx used the opportunity to lash at him with a much bigger wave.

Making things worse was the audience...the strange shark-like creatures with human faces. _His _face. He tried to ignore them, which was pretty easy to do since they swam away in panic every time he fell into the water.

Lightning crackled in the air; the master of the world cried out in the sky. Demyx couldn't make out what she was saying and he didn't care. He had a fight to fight. A fight to _win._

He'd never been a strong fighter, that was true. And now it was showing. He'd have hoped they would be evenly matched, since they were pretty much the same person. But the other one was clearly more experienced than him, and more _vicious. _He hadn't spoken a word since they started; his face was a grim mask of determination. An expression Demyx had never seen on _anyone's _face before, let alone his own.

But he _had _to win. Zexion had ordered him. He couldn't let Zexion down like that.

"Why're you keeping this up?" the other one said, startling him. "It's pretty clear that you're outmatched here."

"I--I don't care," he stammered, drawing himself up to his full height and clutching his sitar tighter. "Zexion gave me an order. And I'm gonna follow it, no matter what."

"Yeah? Well, I made a promise. _Three, _actually. And I won't let you make me break them!" The other Demyx rushed forward, sitar raised and water surging around him.

Demyx gulped, and prepared to dodge again.

* * *

"Do you think...that we should start again, now...?"

"Shut up," Zexion growled, rolling to the side and squeezing his eyes shut. The clouds were still rioting in the sky and thunder was still booming and the winged monsters were flapping in circles around the platform, but he ignored it all. His limbs were aching; his head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. He had completely run out of energy, and certainly the ability to cast any magic.

Which made sense. He and the other Zexion had been fighting all night long. They'd finally both run out of strength, to the point where they could no longer cast spells at each other. They had started whaling on each other with their lexicons (much as Zexion resented having to use his weapon for such a crude purpose), and even that effort they'd given up when they both sank to their knees at the same time, wheezing, before falling unconscious.

Zexion took great comfort in knowing that the other one had fainted first.

Now they were both awake. Zexion guessed that it was about noon the next day, though he couldn't be certain. The sky was no longer black but gray, though it was still choked with clouds and the rainless storm was still raging. They were lying on opposite sides of the platform, neither moving or even speaking. Zexion had even thought that the other one had fallen asleep again, but apparently not.

He _should _resume the fight, by all means. Demyx had promised him...and though he hadn't said anything back, he knew he had promised as well. And Demyx had...apologized to him. For the first time ever. He didn't know if Demyx knew that he'd heard, but he _had. _That one apology...

He was surprised by how much it meant to him. Before, he'd been intent that his relationship with Demyx was something he couldn't change; he had always figured that Demyx wasn't self-aware enough to even know that there was something wrong with his treatment of Zexion. Zexion didn't begrudge it. All he had to do was focus on the good parts and ignore the rest. Ignore how much Demyx's cavalier attitude hurt him...

But Demyx had apologized. He'd apologized...and he'd promised. He had made some sort of a commitment. It wasn't much, but it was enough. The two of them, perhaps there was still hope for them. Perhaps they could still have a relationship--as much a relationship that two Nobodies could share.

Perhaps they could one day have something like the other two did...

Zexion blinked, startled. Where had _that _thought come from? Those two were freaks, crazies engaged in the most unhealthy of unhealthy relationships. They certainly weren't a paragon of romantic love!

But he thought about the way they spoke with each other. The way that they would exchange little glances, the way that they would hold hands and hug each other and say so sincerely, "_I love you..." _Zexion would have loved to believe that it was just his other self playing mind games on his Demyx, but...perhaps the truth was less cynical.

Something burned in his chest and his throat tightened. _Don't be so weak, _he admonished himself. He couldn't help it, though. Zexion had never liked being wrong before, and rarely was he ever wrong. To have to admit that all along, he had been wrong about his and Demyx's alternate counterparts was almost too much for him to handle.

"So?" the other Zexion snapped, rudely interrupting Zexion's thoughts. "Are we going to start again, or not?"

"How about..." Zexion took in a deep breath. What he was about to say...it physically _hurt. _He didn't want to say it. It was too...hard. It would have been so much easier if he'd just chosen to follow the instructions of the master of the world and fight the other one. It would have been so much simpler. So black and white.

But what right did a Nobody, a creature who did not exist, have to deal with absolutes? He'd been thinking in far too absolute terms before. Us versus them. It was comforting, and it was natural--a tribal instinct.

However, he wasn't a creature, a slave to his instincts. Not like a Heartless. _That _was what distinguished him and his brethren from the dark monsters that blindly crawled over the worlds. He had a mind, and he had _logic. _This decision was...the logical one.

"How about what?" the other said impatiently.

"How about..." Zexion pulled himself to a sitting position, ignoring the protests his aching muscles gave. He smirked even though he didn't really feel like it, and held a finger in front of his face like a lecturing teacher. "How about _this. _Instead of fighting each other..."

"Hmm?" The other one blinked, looking startled.

Zexion leaned in close, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Why, it's simple. Instead of pounding unproductively away at each_ other, _say...why don't we turn our efforts against the one who's _really _responsible for all this...?"

* * *

Zexion has a plan, yes he does! You'll have to wait for the next chapter to find out what it is, though (although it's blindingly obvious!). I'm a bit worried his turnaround comes too quickly. Initially, I planned to devote a lot more time to the two fights and to their conversations after the fights (hence the chapter name would make more sense), but it seems that must be moved to the next chapter. Which I swear (or rather, _hope_) will not be this long. Sigh...

I have actually begun working on a Kingdom Hearts/Batman crossover fic. Yes, you heard that right. It's "crack" in the same way that this story is "crack." Look forward to it when I finally finish that first chapter, which is a long time coming (especially for those of you who enjoy my AkuZeku stories, because the universe is the exact same as that of those fics). Gah, it feels like forever since I've written AkuZeku.

Looking at this story and the notes makes me realize how much I love my parenthetical insertions.

Comment if you wish. Again, I don't really care. My fictionpress is more important.


	6. You and I Are the Same

**Through a Mirror, Darkly**

(AKA, "unoriginal title is unoriginal")

_They were two pairs from two worlds. They might have appeared the same, but they thought they were too different to find any common ground. Until they were forced to work together. Zemyx, Dexion_

Warnings: Yaoi, graphic scenes, abuse, S&M, seme!Zexion and uke!Zexion, seme!Demyx and uke!Demyx (...don't ask), a fat load of weirdness and craziness oveall. Please don't take any of this shit seriously.

Sorry for the late update, everyone. I don't have much of an excuse, really, except I have been working on a Kingdom Hearts "crack" fic which I think I'll post after this one...though I'm not too certain, because that fic is easily the most disgusting and puerile thing I've ever written. Plus, het.

Also, I'mma go pimp out another one of my fictionpress projects, which unlike my previous ones won't be much of a commitment at all, since it's just a series of interconnected drabbles: **Winged Victory**, a sci fi story that I do believe is the sort of thing I'm interested in working on right now. It features a relationship between a middle-aged admiral and a twenty-one-year-old lieutenant and yes, is slash. Plus has a lot of discipline thrown in. I don't know, lately I've been finding loving discipline a lot more kinky than before. In fact, you get a bit of that in this chapter as well.

Three-fifths of the way through! Keep on encouraging me, we're almost done here!

* * *

6. You and I Are the Same

Zexion stared at his double, his eyes narrowed.

"And what do you mean by that?" he said suspiciously.

The other did not help things in the slightest by throwing his head to the side and emitting a short bark of _very _condescending laughter. "Oh, isn't it _obvious?"  
_

"No, it isn't. Explain."

"Wait, you haven't figured it out?" the other one said.

Dislike lashed through Zexion. "And what is there to figure out? Have you gone insane?"

The other Zexion sighed and folded his arms beneath his head. "Well...think about it. How productive is all of this fighting?"

So that was it. The coward just didn't want to fight any further. Zexion said with a scowl, "It's _very _productive. Whoever wins gets to leave this damned place!"

"And how do you know that?" the other one said.

"Of course I know! I've had enough of this. We are going to fight, right here and now," Zexion said, lurching to his feet and summoning his lexicon. His head spun from the sudden exertion, but he would never admit his weakness to anyone.

"How do you _know?" _the other Zexion pressed on, his eyes flashing with a light that Zexion couldn't understand--nor did he wish to. "How do you know that us fighting is the right thing to do?"

"Well, isn't it logical?"

"How? What makes you say that? We've been fighting nonstop, yes? But wouldn't you say that we're about equally matched? Neither of us has given way to the other."

Zexion didn't want to be reminded of that, to his irritation, because he didn't want believe he was equally matched with this weak fool. But still...he had to admit that the other one had a point.

"And your point is..."

"My point is quite simple, if you'd only think about it. Who is making us fight in the first place?"

"Well..." Zexion had to think a bit about this. He'd been fighting for so long that he'd forgotten how it had started. "The other...the other Demyx...he came in and was babbling about how we needed to fight..."

"Yes, but, he wasn't the one who was making us fight. _Think."_

Zexion resented being told to think, but swallowed his pride and did listen to the other one. He thought about the circumstances that had led him into this situation in the first place, no matter how much he didn't want to. The ground splitting beneath him...and being separated from Demyx...and there was that--that _figure, _the glowing white being, spinning circles through the air high above them, and speaking in that strange not-young not-old voice:

"_The world is destroying itself. You must win your fights before it falls completely to the darkness."_

"That..." he said. "That person, whoever it was. It..._she_...wanted us to fight."

"Precisely." The other Zexion jerked his head in a bird-like nod. "I imagine that she is the one who initially told my Demyx that we needed to fight, and well...he being him, he bought it."

"But you don't believe it," Zexion said. He was struggling to speak, struggling to piece together something--something big and awful and something he didn't understand. The feeling that he was drowning, unable to reach a lifeline. He had gotten in over his head. They all had.

"I don't," the other Zexion said. "What has our fighting accomplished, really? Just think about it."

Zexion could answer _that _easily enough. "Nothing."

"Yes. So it seems, we're fighting only for the express purpose of wearing each other down..."

Zexion voiced it, the crushing revelation that was preventing him from breathing. He didn't want to think it, let alone say it, but he was never one to run from the truth when it was shoved in his face. "We are being manipulated."

"Yes," the other Zexion said solemnly. "Whoever that being is, the one who made us fight--she's manipulating us all. For what, I don't know...but all I know is that _she _is the we ought to be turning our efforts against. Not each other."

The other one really did have a point--much as Zexion despised him. Zexion had sat down by now, and dispelled his lexicon--there was no point it keeping it out if they weren't going to fight. Fighting had...it had felt right, of course. It was a compelling thought, the idea that there could only be one Zexion and Demyx. That the others were false, illegitimate, imperfect copies.

But he was also a scientist and he prided himself on his logic. As nice as the premise seemed at first glance, thinking about it made him realize it held no logical water. The source it came from was dubious at best--the other Demyx, who'd apparently gotten the idea from this bizarre master of the world, the one who had brought them here in the first place--and the existence of all those pictures in the cafe repudiated it with a quiet force that no words could have. If those pictures displayed a Zexion and Demyx for every universe, then how the hell could he be presumptuous enough to believe that he and his Demyx were the only legitimate ones?

It hurt him to admit that. To think that those two, the two who had no affection between them, the Demyx who bullied his Zexion and the Zexion who accepted that bullying, were just as real, and had just as much a right to exist, as he and his beloved angel.

But all the same. He wasn't a prizefighter forced to slug it out for the entertainment of others--which was what the master of the world had turned him into. He would fight who he wanted, when he wanted, on his own terms.

"You...you are right," he said, forcing down a burning nausea that had risen in his throat at those words. "We shouldn't let ourselves get manipulated so easily..."

The other Zexion blinked, looking stupidly startled, as if he'd been slapped by a frozen fish. Ha. Perhaps Zexion should try that one day...

"My, my," the other Zexion said. "You actually agree with me."

"Of course I do," Zexion said, annoyed. "What you're saying is, after all, perfectly logical."

A little smile crossed the other Zexion's face, but disappeared as soon as it had come. For a long time the two of them sat in silence, neither quite facing each other but throwing the other glances every now and then. The only sound was the impatient leathery flapping of the flying monsters' wings, and the distant crash of thunder.

At length, the other Zexion spoke. "So. What are we to do?"

"I assume..." Zexion said, adopting his thinking pose. "I assume we need to find our Demyxes, and from there on plan our attack against the master of the world. The four of us will be much more effective against her than just two."

"Yes," the other Zexion said, frowning into the distance. "Wherever they might be..."

"We should be able to smell them, shouldn't we? Especially since this world doesn't have any other scent."

"That's correct. But first, I imagine, we have to fight off--_these_." The other Zexion swept his arm towards the flying monsters, which were surrounding the platform in a thick and ever-growing circle, as if realizing that the two combatants had begun plotting something.

More fighting. Zexion suppressed a groan. But he'd have to do it--for Demyx.

"You know," the other Zexion suddenly said, his words coming rather awkwardly, "you are...that is, I mean to say, it seems my initial impressions of you were not...entirely accurate."

"Hmm?" Zexion blinked, startled at this sudden admission. The other Zexion was staring at the cracked ground beneath his boots, very obviously embarrassed. Zexion felt a sudden strong pang of pity for him, and had to fight the urge to walk over to him and pat him on the shoulder, as he would whenever Demyx was flustered.

"I was...wrong. The two of you truly do--I don't understand it, I don't _want _to understand it, but--but what you have is...it is much more real than what the two of us have. I can only...I wish...oh, never mind."

"Zexion..." It felt rather surreal, saying his own name aloud, but he wasn't addressing himself, was he? He was addressing the other one, as much a Zexion as he was.

"Yes?" the other Zexion said.

"I do believe that you and yours, you--you do care for him. I don't like that you allow him to dominate you, but I can't deny that you--ahh, this is so very difficult to explain." It was his turn to feel embarrassed; he was never the kind to talk his emotions, not like bright and bubbly Demyx. He didn't even know if words would be enough to apologize to the other one.

"Well, then, you don't have to. Talking wastes energy, anyhow," the other one said, putting forth a stab at briskness, though his mouth was quivering slightly. He summoned his lexicon and turned to face the circle of threatening flyers, which were surrounding the platform in such a dense layer that they had cast the platform in shadow again, despite the uniform grayness of the new day. "It's time to fight."

Zexion summoned his own lexicon, and jerked his head in a solemn nod. Facing the flying monsters, who sneered at him with their mockery of his face, he snarled with a visceral rage he very rarely felt, "_Have at me, you monsters--"_

* * *

A huge, shark-shaped monster with a flat face and features vaguely resembling his own barrelled straight towards Demyx, prepared to tear him clean open with its gnashing, razor-edged teeth--

But then a burst of bubbles slammed into its flank, making it roar in pain and momentarily forget its target; Demyx twisted and turned and burst to the surface of the icy water, gasping heavily for breath and shaking droplets out of his soaked hair.

"Th-thanks for the save," he managed weakly to the other Demyx, who offered him just as weak a grin in return.

But the reprieve was brief, if any at all. More of the shark monsters closed in around the two Nobodies, currently treading water in the roiling black ocean. So many of them, all with the same nightmarish human-like faces and gleaming flesh-colored hides--they stank of rotting meat--

Demyx had no idea how long he and the other had been staving off the monsters. All he knew was that they had been fighting, continuously, on and off throughout the night, taking breaks only to rest up with the full knowledge that the fighting would start again as soon as they regained their energy. For Demyx, nothing existed but the other one, the simpering weak idiot who let his Zexion stick needles in him and push him around--that moron, he was going to beat him, _kill _him, nothing was going to stop Demyx from going home again with _his _Zexion--

He had made three promises. There was no way he was about to break them.

But their latest bout of fighting had carried the two Demyxes, in their weariness lurching like drunk men and attacking each other with only halfhearted bursts of bubbles and sputters of water, off the platform, and into the freezing water beneath. Towards the monsters. Dozens of them, churning the water with their massive fins, charging at the two helpless Nobodies with their jaws opened and clearly anticipating a meal.

In the face of _that, _well, the two Demyxes had quickly dropped their differences--for now. After all, though they both longed to see the other fall, they wanted him to fall by their _own _hand, not by some crazy shark monsters! So together they fought off the monsters which were growing wilder and wilder with every passing second--Demyx had had too many close shaves for comfort--

"Look out!" yelled Demyx as he saw the dark cigar-like shape of one shark beneath the water next to the other Demyx. The other whipped around, sitar in hand, but he couldn't move fast enough--

Demyx had a horrible vision of blood spurting everywhere and staining the water red; he moved quickly as he could, sending forth a wave towards the shark monster, but the wave sputtered and died before it could grow into the powerful surge Demyx wanted it to be. He choked in disappointment and dread; no, the other one _couldn't _die, not now!

Birds rained from the sky, tens and dozens and then hundreds, a roiling white wave of white feathers and beaks and claws. Snapping, fluttering, roaring, tearing, clicking--the birds were attacking the sharks! Demyx stared in wide-eyed disbelief at the other one, and then at the birds.

But as he stared harder at the birds, he realized that...that they weren't birds at all. Well, actually, they were, but not the pure white-feathered doves he'd initially thought they were. They were more of an ivory color, and had dark lines running regularly up their bodies, and they were rather angular in shape--they looked more like paper birds than real birds--

Duh. They _were _paper birds. Pages from books, in fact, folded into bird shapes and given a simple illusion to make them appear like doves. They certainly attacked the sharks with the ferocity of real birds. Birds of prey, not doves, though.

The sharks, under the ferocious onslaught, were beginning to retreat, swimming out to open sea in the hopes of throwing off their attackers. One by one, they left, until it just Demyx and his double treading the black water, soaked to the skin and shivering and utterly grateful.

The two Zexions strode into view, side-by-side on the platform, both walking rather carefully to keep from slipping on the soaked marble. Demyx was surprised by how easily he was able to tell them apart, even though they had the exact same physical features; not only were they wearing slightly different coats, but they had different postures as well. The other Zexion strode with a straight-backed, almost swaggering, confidence, while his own Zexion kept his steps brisk and carefully measured, and his gaze directed somewhat to the side.

"I should have known," Zexion said with a sigh and a shake of his head. "Once again, you're demonstrating your remarkable propensity for getting into trouble."

Demyx stared up at the two of them, utterly bewildered. Just what...was going on? Why were the two working _together? _They were both rather scuffed and bruised and their coats were battered and torn in places, so it seemed they'd been fighting earlier, but now they were standing together without a sign of hostility. And then they'd rescued the two Demyxes...oh, it was too much to take in.

"Demyx, are you all right?" the other Zexion said, crouching by the edge of the platform and extending his hand so that he and his Demyx were touching fingers.

"Zexion..." was all the other Demyx could manage, a little smile crossing his face. "I...I'm sorry, I d-didn't follow your order..."

"Hush, Demyx. That's perfectly all right. There's been...a change in plans."

"Change in plans?" Demyx hollered, rudely interrupting their moments. "What the hell do you mean? Is _anyone _going to explain what's going on? Why the hell aren't the two of you fighting anymore, dammit?"

"Exactly as he said," Zexion said in frustration, running a hand through his hair. "There has been a change in plans. There's no time to explain right now, so if you don't want to get eaten by those sharks, come with us right now."

Well...Zexion had a point. He usually did, though. Demyx glanced behind him and saw that the shark monsters were slowly swimming back towards him and the other Demyx--many of them were leaving behind swirls of blood in the water, and boy did they look _pissed. _

"Okay, okay!" he shouted, swimming towards the platform as well. "Get us out of here!"

* * *

The word was still in upheavel, but nearly as badly as it had been that night when the ground had torn into pieces and separated the two couples, for what they had believed would be forever--but was really more like a single night. Now they were together again, but racing through the streets of the city as the ground bucked and jumped beneath their feet, buildings crumbled in hails of stone and mortar, and monsters swept in the air above and around them and crept at their ankles. Demyx found himself tripping a lot more than he'd have liked, mostly stumbling over the broken-up, uneven ground. Thankfully, Zexion was always there to snatch his hand and yank him back to his feet before the monsters could overwhelm him.

He was soaked, both from his prolonged stay in the ocean and from sweat. He'd been freezing before, shivering in the icy water, but now he was burning up and hot and panting from exertion. He longed to stop running. To find some kind of rest, or reprieve, anywhere away from the monsters...

"Through here!" snapped the other Zexion, pushing open a door in one of the few relatively intact buildings. The other three didn't waste any time to sprint in after him; Demyx was last, and for a terrifying second one of the winged monsters, talons extended, flew towards his head just before he could dive through the door. Zexion shouted his name and several lexicon pages zipped through the air and sliced a huge gash into the monster's thin belly--it screeched and flew away, flapping insanely as blood spurted in an arc from its body.

Demyx fell hard, onto his elbows and knees, on to a thick carpet, breathing hard.

The other three were already busy barricading the doors and windows, pushing and tugging on pieces of heavy dark wood furniture across the carpet--the other Zexion and Demyx were both swearing up a storm as they struggled to move the bookcases, desks, and chairs. Demyx looked around the room. It was small and low-ceilinged and lit only by dim frosted-glass lamps resting in sconces on the oak-paneled walls, giving it a dim and mysterious aura. The windows were draped with heavy plum velvet curtains which were decorated with elaborate gold embroidery; the carpet, though fading, was also a deep plum color and adorned with an elaborate design of stars, moons, and suns.

The desk that the three had currently shoved against the door, after much huffing and puffing and cursing, was beaten and scratched and footed with chipped golden claws (one claw was missing, and had been replaced by a cracked glass sphere), and topped with all the manner of bizarre memorabilia, most of which had rolled off onto the carpet as the three had dragged it to the door. Crystal balls, polished wooden bowls of dried herbs, sticks of incense, a scattered deck of beautifully-gilded tarot cards, a lacquered ouija board. The rich, smoky-sweet smell of incense filled the air, making it hard for Demyx to breathe. Demyx looked around the room, at the walls, which were decorated with several dusty old photographs (not as many as had been in the cafe, though)--the largest one, on the far wall, depicted a black-and-white image of Zexion in an elaborate velvet robe, adopting a contemplative Hamlet-with-Yorick's-skull pose, though he held a crystal ball instead of a skull.

A psychic's place? Interesting.

"Whew, that's all of them," the other Demyx said with a relieved sigh, brushing back strands of soaked hair from his forehead. He and the others had just finished shoving a bookcase--filled with volumes titled _Access Your Chi, The Truth in the Tarot, _and _Advanced Astrology_--against a window.

Outside, Demyx could still hear the monsters flapping, screeching, and scurrying, but the sounds were strangely distant. As if they issued from another world completely. This place, this psychic shop, seemed to be a realm in itself, cut off from the rest of this bizarre place. While they were in it, nothing outside could touch them.

"It seems we're no longer in any immediate danger..." the other Zexion said.

"Okay, great," the other Demyx said. "So _now _do you wanna explain?"

Yes, indeed. Demyx was curious about that too. Why were the two Zexions now working together, when they were supposed to be fighting? And what did Zexion mean by saying that there was a change in plans?

"All right, then..." the other Zexion said. "Come, gather around..."

And so, haltingly at first, but then with more confidence and eloquence, the two Zexions explained the conclusions that they had drawn after their fight that had gone nowhere. Demyx listened, feeling strangely cold inside, as they spoke about being manipulated--Zexion called it "acting as unpaid prizefighters"--and how they believed that the strange glowing feminine being in the sky, the "master of the world" (according to the other Demyx) was manipulating them for unknown reasons.

"Basically," the other Zexion said, "we mustn't give in to what she wants. We may not know why she wants us to fight, but the fact is, _she _is the one who incited us to fight in the first place. So to defy her, we must work together."

"Yeah, that sounds about right," agreed the other Demyx. "I...I might've fell for what she said in the beginning, but not anymore! It's her fault we're here!"

The other Zexion cast his Demyx a strangely affectionate half-smile. "Oh, Demyx," he said softly.

His own Zexion turned towards him, frowning inquisitively. "Demyx...?"

Something sick was roiling in Demyx's stomach, a tight heat was rising in his chest. He stared down at his hands, which he realized in a strange detached way were digging into the material of his pants. He knew he should just nod and agree and everyone would get along and be happy, but...

But he still remembered seeing his double push the other Zexion, remembered the cold way the other Demyx had spoken to the other Zexion, remembered how the other Zexion had called him and his Zexion freaks. There was no way he could get along with people like that! He wouldn't. The idea of fighting them had sounded so _right _to him, reverberated in his nerves with a strength that nothing else in this world so far had. They couldn't be more real than he was, these--these callous, cold, twisted people. These people who dared to call his Zexion, his lover and master and devil, a _freak_.

"I don't think they're right," he said, finally.

"Demyx?" Zexion's voice was sharp. Demyx squeaked his eyes, not wanting to see Zexion's disapproval.

"I don't think we should help them," he continued, aware that what he was saying was wrong--yet completely right at the same time. "What reason do we have to trust them, anyway?"

"Weren't you listening at _all _to what we were saying?" cried the other Zexion, indignant. "If you had been listening, surely you must know we have plenty of legitimate reasons!"

"You're all acting like this master of the world is the bad guy, though," Demyx protested. "But you haven't got any _proof _that she's manipulating us or anything! You're just assuming things. And if she really is, well, the master of the world, then she's way too powerful for _us _to fight."

"Don't be such a defeatist!" the other Demyx said. "Listen, _I _said I was wrong, so why can't you admit to it?"

"'Cause I'm _not _wrong!" Demyx shouted, almost choking from his upset. "I'm not I'm not I'm _not _I swear I--"

"That will be quite enough, Demyx."

Demyx, despite himself, flinched when he heard Zexion's cold tone. It was a tone he almost never heard from Zexion--icy and controlled, yet tinged with a level of deep disappointment, and genuine _anger. _Demyx rarely made Zexion actually angry, though Zexion liked to feign anger with him. To hear Zexion addressing him like that...it was plain he was going to suffer for his insubordination later. And Zexion wouldn't put forth a single pretense at gentleness while doing it.

"Zexion--" he began.

"Don't you dare protest," Zexion said, standing up and facing Demyx. He snapped his fingers and then gestured towards the dark wood staircase recessed into the leftmost wall of the room--a clear gesture for Demyx to scale it. "I will deal with you later. For now, go find a place where you can wait for your punishment. Preferably a bedroom, if you can find one. _Now."_

"Hey, whoa there," began the other Demyx.

Demyx's face burned, but the anger didn't die down. "I haven't done anything wrong," he said. "You're just mad at me 'cause you don't agree with me, but you can't say that I _haven't _got anything legitimate to say."

"You're wrong," Zexion said, his face a blank mask. "You're speaking out of discontent and immaturity, because you want to argue with us, not because you actually have valuable insights. Demyx. I will not argue with you any longer. Up the stairs, this instant."

Demyx, despite himself, couldn't fight back when Zexion was taking that tone of voice. Whirling around, he stormed up the stairs rather more loudly than he ought to, burning in righteous indignity. He would never work with them, no matter how badly Zexion punished him for this. _Never._

* * *

"Geez," Demyx said with a sigh, sprawling on the luxurious carpet and folding his arms beneath his head. "Just when I was beginning to think those two were _okay, _too... They really are just creepy freaks, aren't they, Zexy?"

"Yes, but they're still us, in a way," Zexion said. He was seated on the carpet as well, though he was making a conscious effort not to sprawl as uncouthly as Demyx was. One of the silly psychic books was open on his lap, but he'd given up reading it once it started rambling about the healing properties of sapphires drenched in orange oil and milk of magnesia. Still, he wanted _something _to do, _something _to focus on, so he wouldn't have to listen to the thumps and cries of pain issuing from upstairs.

"Yeah, whatever. Doesn't change that they're freaks." Demyx rolled over so that he was lying on his stomach. "Ya think we should, umm, do something?"

"What _can _we do? It wouldn't be right to interfere."

"Um, he's beating him up, you know."

Zexion exhaled roughly. "I _know. _So what do you want to do?"

"I don't know. You?"

"I don't know," Zexion echoed. He could hear the other Zexion speaking now, his voice cold and sharp-edged with disapproval; the other Demyx gave a whimpering response and then there a crack like a whiplash and a fresh howl of pain from the other Demyx. Dear lord. Where had he gotten a _whip _from?

"At least tell them to quiet down," Demyx said.

"_You _go tell them. I'm not moving," Zexion said.

"What, afraid of jeopardizing this new alliance?"

"Alliance nothing...although, I have been wondering something."

"Fire away, Zexy." Demyx then winced as another whiplash sounded through the silent house. "Err, well, bad choice of words, but..."

"I was wondering why you changed your mind so easily," Zexion said. "You were the one who was so adamant that we fight in the first place, weren't you?"

"Oh, uh..." Demyx shuffled a bit, sounding embarrassed. "Um...it's...I guess, what I mean to say is, I just thought you were right. I thought about it, when you were speaking. And I thought it didn't seem--that what you said made sense. I wasn't thinking, when I met with the master of the world. I was just scared. Scared for _you. _I saw how much power she had and I thought she could hurt you and I wanted to do anything to stop you from being hurt so I, I was thinking that if I stopped those other two then we would be safe, but like I said I wasn't thinking and--"

"Hold it," Zexion said, cutting off Demyx's increasingly incoherent rambles. He felt strangely light-headed, filled with disbelief. "Are you trying to say that you...you did all that...that you wanted to fight them...for _me?"_

"Yes," Demyx said, his voice barely a whisper. "Yes, dammit, _yes. _For you. I mean, I know now that I was wrong, I wasn't thinking, and now I know who are real enemy is, so I, uh...I'm sorry about that."

"Oh, Demyx," Zexion said, gazing down at his hands. They were trembling. He had long dropped the idiotic book. "Demyx, come here."

"Err, why? I mean, if you're going to be taking cues from _him, _I'd rather not, y'know--"

"_Demyx, _you fool. I have enough of a sense of self-preservation to not hit you. If I did that you'd hit me back, and harder too."

"Ahahaha, is that so?"

"Yes. Just come over here, please."

"Please is the magic word, Zexy," Demyx said, winking and pulling himself to his knees. He shuffled across the carpet towards Zexion by walking on his knees, the lazy fool. Zexion waited expectantly for him, and when Demyx came close enough, he placed his hands on the sides of Demyx's face--the blonde Nobody blinked in surprise--and then pressed his lips to Demyx's in a brief but gentle kiss.

The kiss didn't last long, only long enough for Demyx to link his hands behind Zexion's neck and take control of the kiss, pressing gently into Zexion's mouth and sucking on his lips, before they broke apart, staring into each others' eyes. They were still holding each other, and their faces were flushed, less from the kiss than from what it meant.

"Thank you, Demyx," Zexion said.

* * *

"Owww...I'm s-sorry Zexion, I'm sorry, I was bad, I was really bad, I'm sorry," Demyx sobbed into the pillow. He was face down on the bed as Zexion had ordered earlier, exposing his thin pale back to anything Zexion wanted to do to him. Currently his back was criss-crossed with deep red weals and rapidly darkening bruises as well as irregular cuts and lashes.

Zexion loomed above the narrow twin bed, his belt dangling from his hand. The buckle was stained with blood from where it had caught Demyx's delicate skin and torn, but still Zexion felt this wasn't enough. The belt was fine and dandy in a pinch, but what would _really _drive the lesson home was a good hard whipping. He couldn't find a whip anywhere on hand, though, so he would have to make do.

"Are you sorry, now? Then if you really are, kindly explain to me why you are being punished."

"Y-yes, sir." A shuddering gulp from Demyx, and he went on, sounding marginally calmer. "I--I was being defiant. Defiant and rude and insubordinant..."

"What else?"

Demyx squirmed a little. "And...and I was...disagreeing with you?"

Zexion whipped him again, mostly for phrasing his response as a question. "Not only that, you silly boy. You were wrong and you _knew _it."

"Yes, sir, I'm sorry, sir."

"Don't call me that. My name is Zexion. Use it."

"Y-yes, Zexion."

"Oh, Demyx," Zexion sighed, sinking to his knees in front of the bed and gently resting a hand on the top of Demyx's head, where he stroked and gently tugged on the sweat-soaked golden strands. Demyx lifted his head to stare at him, his blue eyes wide with apprehension, tear streaks shining on his reddened face. Zexion lowered the belt and extended his other hand to wipe the tears away.

A useless effort; as soon as he started, Demyx sobbed a little and more tears came pouring from his eyes. Zexion sighed and pulled Demyx closer to him so that the blonde's chin was resting on his shoulder and his face was buried in the crook of Zexion's neck. Demyx clung tightly to the front of Zexion's coat, whimpering and shivering.

"Shh, it's all right, Demyx," Zexion murmured. "You've learned your lesson. I know you have, because you're a good boy."

"Z-Z-Zexion," sobbed Demyx, clutching Zexion even tighter so that it was becoming difficult for him to breathe. He didn't mind, though.

"It's all right, it's all right, it's all right," Zexion repeated in a soothing mantra, patting rhythmically on the head and letting his little lover sob the pain away. He knew Demyx hadn't meant anything wrong, he was just a little misguided and quick-tempered, that was all. Zexion would always be there to set him back on the right path; he knew it and Demyx knew it, and because of that Demyx would not resent him for the punishment later.

A rectangle of blinding white light flooded in through a chink in the heavy curtain; Zexion cried out in alarm and instantly surged to his feet, dragging Demyx with him. He heard shouting and footsteps on the floor beneath--the other two were reacting as well to the sudden light.

To the arrival of the master of the world.

"_How...displeasing," _she said, her voice echoing throughout the house; it was as loud as if she was standing in the room right next to Zexion. Demyx whimpered louder. "_It appears you haven't done as I have said."_

"Yeah? Should we have? Up yours, lady!" the other Demyx yelled from downstairs, loud enough for Zexion to hear. He winced at the other's uncouthness.

"You will not manipulate us any longer," the other Zexion said. "You _cannot _manipulate us any longer. We will face you--"

"_You will, will you? Hmm...it's been a while since I have been challenged like this. And by such insignificant beings, too! You'll see, though. My power over this world holds eternal. You can't do anything against it. You may have found a safe place, but the world is crumbling, anyhow..."_

"As if we care," Zexion said, keeping his voice quiet but deadly. "We will defeat you long before this world fades away."

He was speaking purely from bravado and he knew it--and he knew that the master of the world knew it as well. Nonetheless, it felt better than doing _nothing. _If he hadn't thought this was the right course of action before, well, his resolve had just doubled.

"_Is that so? How...amusing. You're actually challenging me! Ohh, this will be fun indeed...come, then. If you really believe that you can take me down, then come and fight me in my own realm! Come, you silly defiant creatures, just try and defeat the master of this world! But you must find me first!"_

The light grew sharper, more concentrated; looking at it sent physical pain lancing through Zexion's head. Demyx had wrapped his arms tightly around Zexion's torso and was squeezing as if he was terrified Zexion would disappear; he was whimpering, begging for Zexion to be careful, to stay safe...Zexion patted his head encouragingly.

The curtain flew open, seemingly unprompted. He stared outside, into a broad and brilliant daylight, flooding over the entire ruined city and making it appear pale, washed-out, an over-saturated photograph...but it wasn't the light that astonished him the most.

No, it was the _staircase. _Winding from the middle of the city was an elegant helical marble staircase, its railings adorned by stone gargoyles. It was quite the beautiful piece of architecture but that wasn't why Zexion was staring at it.

This staircase, it...led directly into the sky.

* * *

Dear lord, this chapter is fucking _long. _I don't think I've written a single chapter for this story so long before, which makes me sad because my minimalistic dream is slipping further and further from me...*sob*

Also, I think you can pretty much guess the name of the next chapter, given the appearance of that staircase.

Please review, and don't forget to take a look at my fictionpress. Seriously, if you do read my works for the prose, character interactions, plot and kinks, instead of just the "hot KH guys fucking" aspect, then there's a lot to recommend for you in **Winged Victory**.


	7. A Stairway Not To Heaven

**Through a Mirror, Darkly**

(AKA, "unoriginal title is unoriginal")

_They were two pairs from two worlds. They might have appeared the same, but they thought they were too different to find any common ground. Until they were forced to work together. Zemyx, Dexion_

Warnings: Yaoi, graphic scenes, abuse, S&M, seme!Zexion and uke!Zexion, seme!Demyx and uke!Demyx (...don't ask), a fat load of weirdness and craziness oveall. Please don't take any of this shit seriously.

Hahahaha, it seems I actually am holding true to updating once a week. XD Spring break is coming up (after the Academic Decathlon state tournament...sigh. I only want a Super Quiz medal, that will make me graduate happily. I have no hope of beating those frighteningly talented kids from that one other school that's so much richer and better than my ghetto dump of a school), so I'll probably finish this story completely then. :)

Only three more chapters left~! Actually, technically, it's more like two, since the tenth chapter is mostly a short epilogue deal, and about half of it will be taken up by an ending note explaining the meaning behind the entire story.

It was getting very late at night by the time I finished this chapter, which probably explains the utter bizarre-ness of the last scene. Plus, makes it fairly obvious that I was listening to the Phantom of the Opera soundtrack while writing it.

* * *

7. A Stairway Not To Heaven

The four gathered at the base of the staircase, craning their necks in an attempt to see its end. Zexion had even made Demyx hoist him to his shoulders so that he could better see, but that effort had resulted in nothing but an aching back for Demyx and a brief glimpse of a staircase spiraling through clouds for Zexion.

Zexion dispensed his conclusion. "This staircase doesn't end."

"Or, rather," the other Zexion said, sounding peeved, "it _does, _but it ends too high up for us to see from where we are now."

"That doesn't seem safe," Demyx said. "I mean, isn't there not that much air that high in the sky?"

"Oh my, you're a rapper," Zexion said sourly.

"No way! That was unintentional!" Demyx shouted, quite offended--he made no secret his hatred of rap.

The other Zexion coughed, loudly; he was giving the two of them the evil eye. "Now, getting back on topic--it doesn't matter where this staircase leads. Whatever happens, we're climbing it."

"I'm assuming that it most probably leads to the master of the world. Otherwise, there'd be no reason for it to appear," Zexion said.

"Am I the only one who thinks this isn't a good idea?" Demyx butted in.

Zexion threw him a sidelong glare. "Yes."

Demyx folded his arms and matched Zexion's glare perfectly. Even though he was outwardly acting annoyed with Zexion, he couldn't help but feel a little bubble of--_relief, _of all things. This was more like the way he and Zexion had been before...so it seemed even after everything that had happened, he hadn't lost Zexion. If anything, their bond had been strengthened.

He gazed up the spiral staircase, as high as he could before his neck cramped, and again shuddered. It went so high _up. _He imagined himself falling over those cracked gilded railings and immediately wished he hadn't.

The other Demyx, standing at the edge of the group, seemed to share his feelings; whenever he cast a fleeting glance up the staircase, he immediately convulsed and turned away. Demyx found himself feeling somewhat sorry for his double--after all, his Zexion had just been beating him up! He looked much more pale and wan than before, and had hunched his shoulders and was nervously clutching the front of his coat.

"Demyx," Zexion's voice snapped. Demyx blinked and noticed that Zexion was still glaring at him.

"What is it _now?" _he said with a heavy sigh.

"Don't space out now. We're going to climb it," Zexion said, gesturing towards the staircase.

"All right," Demyx said, "but can't we think this over a bit? I mean, come on, what if we fall? Seems like a really awful height to fall from--"

"Demyx, look at how wide the damn thing is. We _won't _fall."

"Perhaps you should order him," suggested the other Zexion, flashing a snide smile at the two of them.

"Wh--_what?" _Demyx sputtered indignantly.

"Yes, I'd like a side of fries," Zexion said, a vein twitching in his temple. "A fine thing to say, you hypocrite. Why are you standing all the way back there, then? Obviously, _you're _afraid to step onto it first."

"Excuse me?" The other Zexion turned pale and then bright red. From milk to tomato sauce. "I will have you know that--"

Demyx settled back, prepared to watch a very amusing pissing contest. Well, it probably wouldn't be that amusing, but it was better than climbing that horrible thing!

A low rumble and the crunch of stone from behind him snapped him out of his thoughts. Alarmed, Demyx whirled around--to come face-to-face with a monster.

Not just any kind of monster. It was easily the hugest being he'd ever seen since he'd entered this world, bigger than two elephants put together. And it was...he couldn't even begin to describe it. Bubbling, ropy blobs of flesh like putty hung from its bulky body, and it didn't seem to have one face as dozens sprinkled throughout the pale putty flesh of its body, all with equally blank and wide-eyed expressions. Sometimes, the flesh bubbled and burst open like the mud in a hot spring, and a new cadaver-like face would rise to the surface.

The faces...they were...his and Zexion's.

The monster rumbled again, even though it technically had no mouth with which to make any noises. The rumble was low and deep, reverberating in Demyx's bones--and then the monster lurched forward, its heavy steps sinking into the stone beneath it.

Demyx reacted without a second thought. He turned around, screamed, and ran.

The others were fast behind him; he could hear their desperate panting and the thud of their steps, first on the dull stone of the plaza and then click-click on the discolored marble of the stair steps. Demyx bolted up stair after stair after stair, still screaming like a murder victim, waving his arms and quite sure he looked like the biggest idiot to have ever walked any of the worlds. But he couldn't help it. That monster could be right behind them--he was hearing snorting, scratching, and then a hair-rising half-squeal, half-roar that almost made him trip from panic. Thankfully, he regained his balance and continued up the stairs, now leaping up them two at a time.

His legs were burning and nausea was swimming in his head from running in circles (since the staircase spiraled), but he couldn't stop. Not if he didn't want to be caught and eaten by that horrible monster--no, not eaten, but worse. He realized with a sick shuddering jolt that the faces buried in the monster's flesh must have come from past Zexions and Demyxes.

Perhaps they four weren't the first two couples brought to this world...

Demyx's panic wound to an even higher pitch. If that was true, then it meant that their own chances that they'd get out of here alive, already low, had plunged to astronomical depths.

But he had to believe this would work. Otherwise, otherwise he...he and Zexion..._Zexion _would...

That wasn't a thought he wanted to entertain in the slightest.

He continued leaping his way up the steps, sometimes collapsing and falling on his hands and knees on the black-veined marble and scraping them badly, but he didn't care; he just shot right back up again and kept on running. That was all that mattered. Getting away from that horrible monster--

"Demyx! You idiot! _Stop!" _shouted a voice somewhat beneath him.

Demyx, startled by the alarm in Zexion's voice, stopped so quickly that he almost lost his balance; he swayed wildly, flailing his arms in the air like a drunken swimmer, before managing to seize the staircase railing. Breathing hard from his close shave, he turned around.

The other three stood many steps below him, the Zexions both fixing him with irritated glares. The monster was nowhere in sight.

"What...what..." Demyx wheezed, disbelieving. Sweat was rolling down his face and his chest felt tight and painful; he had no idea that he'd been running so strenuously. "Wait...the monster..."

"It didn't go up the stairs," the other Zexion snapped, glaring over the edge of the railing.

"It appears that the monster was only sent to get us onto the staircase in the first place," Zexion said. "How underhanded, though I suppose it suits the master of the world..."

"Where is it now?" Demyx said, panic still fluttering in his stomach. Zexion gestured over the railing and down, towards the plaza. Demyx seized the edge of the railing for stability, and glanced down--

But only for a second. A sick feeling of vertigo rose inside him and his head spun and his ears buzzed. He had to sit down on the cool marble of the steps again, massaging his temples to stave off a stabbing ache. They were so...high _up. _The tallest buildings (most of which had crumbled) were but children's blocks by now, and from this vantage point Demyx could see almost the entire city, stretching bone-white and lifeless until it terminated against the black band of the ocean.

Had he really run that far up? Yet the staircase showed no signs of ending anytime soon...oh, this would be the worst.

"Well, the important thing is that the monster isn't chasing us any longer," the other Zexion said. "It does seem clear that the only way to go now is up."

"Great. Up." Demyx groaned and tried to keep himself from glancing back over the railing. "Defying gravity, huh?"

"And you can't pull me down," Zexion said sardonically.

* * *

The staircase was really quite a beautiful piece of work, if Zexion stopped to think about it. The black-veined white marble was chipped and discolored with age, but all the same, it was apparent even now that plenty of care had been put into building every step. Each one was edged with a slender, slightly raised band of gold, which gleamed dully in the peculiar gray light now washing over the entire world.

Zexion had plenty of time to contemplate the steps because he kept on staring at them. He'd have liked to look straight ahead so he would know where he was going, but it was a bit hard to lift his head when Demyx's arm was draped over his shoulder.

The weak idiot. Demyx apparently suffered from severe vertigo, so Zexion had been forced to support him as they made their way, agonizingly slow, up the steps. By now Demyx's arm felt like a lead weight and the rest of his body, limply slumping against Zexion's, felt like it weighed at least a ton. Zexion was surprised that he was even still able to move.

The other two were already some distance ahead of them, though they had slowed their pace down as the day progressed. Zexion had no idea how much time had actually passed since the sky remained uniformly gray, yet it had to have been some hours already. The four had been climbing the stairs nonstop during all that time. Zexion's leg muscles felt like they were made of burning acid.

He wasn't used to so much physical activity, and it didn't seem to have an end in sight. They'd climbed so high that they could no longer see the ground; everything was blanketed in fluffy gray cloud, chilling the air significantly. Every time they breathed, little white wisps escaped their mouths, blending in with the heavier gray of the clouds.

At least it was a relatively peaceful climb. Sometimes--scaring the shit out of them all--a winged monsters would suddenly break through the clouds and swoop towards them, keening. Then, without fail, everyone (even his stoic alternate self) would fall over with their hands over their heads, yelling or screaming in surprised panic. Thankfully, it didn't happen often--although Zexion suspected that only made it worse. Being constantly attacked by monsters would at least somewhat desensitize the group to their presence.

Otherwise, the four didn't really do much except climb...and climb...and climb.

In a way, Zexion supposed that Demyx's vertigo-induced near-vegetative state was a good thing. Zexion was certain that if Demyx had been in prime condition, he'd have been making all sorts of annoying comments about stairways to heaven or whatnot, if he wasn't whining about how long the climb was--or worst of all, singing that horrible "Defying Gravity" song. As it was, everyone else had the sense to remain somewhat quiet.

Even though Zexion was moving at a snail's pace, no thanks to heavy Demyx, he wasn't that far behind the other two. The other Demyx was moving slowly, taking little steps with consciousness to avoid pain. His Zexion could clearly scale the steps with more speed than he was taking, but he hung back so that he wasn't too far ahead of his Demyx. Sometimes, he even stepped down a few stairs so that he could pat his Demyx on the arm and whisper something to him that Zexion couldn't hear, though he supposed he was trying to encourage his Demyx.

_Your fault, _Zexion thought sourly, remembering how the other one had beaten up his Demyx in the first place.

Still, bizarre as their relationship might be, he would have to get along with them...

"Urgh Zex." For the first time since he'd collapsed against Zexion's shoulder, Demyx issued a semi-intelligible noise. Zexion stopped walking.

"What is it, you idiot? Don't waste your energy on speaking. If you open your mouth too much you're going to vomit..."

"Ahh, how nice of you to worry 'bout me..."

"It's nothing to do with you, fool. I simply don't want you to puke on my clothes."

"Ouch, figured."

"What's going on here?" demanded the other Zexion, who'd stopped as well; he had a hand protectively on his Demyx's shoulder.

"Nothing," Zexion said. "Come on, Demyx, let's move..."

"No, I was just--I just wanted to ask what you think is gonna be at the end of this staircase," Demyx said, sweeping his gaze briefly ahead of him before squeezing his eyes shut again; he rocked a little, apparently stricken by a new wave of vertigo. Zexion grabbed him tighter out of sudden concern.

"What--what does it matter? Just take of yourself, that--"

"Clearly, the master of the world," the other Zexion said.

"Really, now?" Demyx mumbled. "I...I dunno. I get the feeling that, that...what if this staircase doesn't end at all? What if it just goes on and on and--and we'll die here?"

Cold horror twisted Zexion's stomach. "Don't _say _that," he hissed.

"That--that's terrible," squeaked the other Demyx, speaking for the first time since, well, _forever. _"Would she really--do you think she'd really do that?"

"No, she wouldn't. Hush, Demyx. There's no reason to panic," the other Zexion said soothingly.

"It's just--a thought," Demyx said, managing a pained smile and lifting his shoulders in a shrug.

"And not one we will entertain. Don't be so depressing. It doesn't suit you," Zexion said.

"Oh, the Great Zexion has given his judgment. Whatever shall I do?"

"I _mean _it! There _is _something at the end of this staircase!" Zexion shouted, less because he believed it than because he _had _to believe it. Otherwise, all this, all of their climbing and effort (and supporting Demyx...), would have all been in vain. What a fine ending to their sorry little quest in this world. A fine ending to their own existences, pitiful as they might be. He'd always envisioned fading away in a slightly more dramatic manner than starving to death on an endless staircase.

"Yeah, at least if we're climbing we're getting away from that monster," the other Demyx said, putting his hands on his hips.

Demyx's smile became more of a grimace. "Good point."

"So? Are we going to keep going?" demanded the other Zexion; he had already scaled three steps higher than the rest of the group, and was clinging lightly to the railing, looking fully ready to continue striding. Well, wasn't someone Eager McBeaver. "Enough with the arguments and self-doubt. We should direct all of our energy towards defeating the master of the world."

Well, wasn't he enthusiastic about this. Zexion would have dearly liked to point out that the other had no right to be so gung-ho, seeing as it was _Zexion _who had originally come up with the idea that they band up and work together against the master of the world. It wouldn't be very sporting to say that, though.

The four climbed higher, and higher. As they did, the clouds grew thicker and darker around them, until every step felt like he was fighting through a dense stew to keep on pressing forward. He could barely support Demyx now; at some points his own knees almost gave way and only by leaning against the railing could he stay upright. He could barely see ahead of him; even the glimmer of the gold band in the steps was growing progressively dimmer.

The fog was almost black now. Even though he was clinging to Demyx, he felt alone, utterly alone, in a realm in which he did not belong. Not the world of darkness, but something even more dangerous. Even more powerful.

_Stupid, you're growing paranoid, just keep climbing, _he told himself feverishly--but it was telling that he no longer saw the staircase at all now.

* * *

"Zexion! Zexion, oh Zexion please stop stop stop _stop," _Demyx sobbed, writhing and jerking against the chains binding his wrists. He tried to do something, _anything, _to move his body out of the range of the whip that Zexion was so expertly wielding, but it didn't work; no matter how he contorted himself, he only seemed to be exposing more of a target to the cruel, lashing braided leather tails.

And still Zexion showed no signs of stopping. If anything, he was whipping hard ever before; Demyx felt ready to faint from the pain. He thought that by this point, with his back torn to bloody ribbons, he'd have become numb to the pain, but each lash just set his old wounds on fire and opened up more bloody stripes on his back, flaring anew with agony. He sobbed and begged but it wasn't enough, it was never enough for his Zexion, his cruel master...

"Zexion oh Zexion I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm _sorry_--"

"Are you now?" hissed Zexion, stomping hard on Demyx's back; Demyx unleashed a fresh howl that tore at his raw throat. The pain was beginning to blind him. "_Are you now! _I don't think so. You see, Demyx, you're a bad boy. That's simply your inner nature. And _that _is why I punish you as hard as I do."

"_Noo Zexion_--I swear I, I swear I--I'll be better, I'll be good--"

"It's not enough. It never is!" Zexion whipped him again, three times in quick succession. "And it never _will _be. You're a foul, dirty creature, Demyx. Kindness? You think you _deserve _any? Why, this is much better treatment than you actually deserve!"

"Y-you're so cruel, you're so cruel," Demyx found himself sobbing, speaking wildly from the pain. But it was _true. _Why, why did Zexion always have to torture him like this? He'd given Zexion his all, everything he could of his heartless being, and Zexion had rewarded it with--what? Constant beatings, constant rape. Constant pain.

"That's fine by me, you naughty boy," Zexion hissed, and lashed Demyx again.

* * *

Demyx scowled as he stormed through the library, anger and disappointment knotting into a ball in the pit of his stomach.

Seriously. He'd waited an hour, and Zexion hadn't shown up! And when they'd gone to such lengths to plan this date in the first place. Well, not "they," exactly. More like Demyx. Hell, he hadn't even told Zexion until yesterday, because he'd wanted it to be a surprise. He'd _assumed _Zexion would remember, but that assumption also meant assuming that Zexion actually cared about their dates. Considered them important.

He heard voices. Backtracking, still furious, Demyx ducked behind a bookshelf.

Vexen was striding down the aisle between two shelves--and Zexion was beside him.

Not just beside him, but--but they were holding hands. _Holding hands. _Demyx felt like he'd swallowed a gallon of freezing water. He couldn't believe--just wouldn't believe--what was happening. They were holding hands, and smiling at each other, and talking in such soft, affectionate tones...

"Didn't you have a prior engagement?" Vexen was saying.

"Hmm, really? I don't remember this..." Zexion said.

"Yes, you did. I do believe that you told me something about being booked for this evening--something about IX."

"IX. Ahh." Zexion threw his head to the side and unleashed a bark of derisive laughter. "As if an engagement with _him _means anything..."

Vexen laughed, and squeezed Zexion's shoulder. "Quite right."

Something exploded like a firework inside Demyx's chest, and he sank to his knees, his legs no longer able to support his weight. He clutched the bookshelf and trembled and let the hot wetness streak from the corners of his eyes. It was no use telling himself that he didn't have a heart to be broken.

* * *

"Demyx! Where are you? Dammit, Demyx, come out! I don't have _time _for this!" Zexion shouting, his panic winding to a higher and higher pitch the further he searched.

He thought he'd combed through all of The World That Never Was by now, and yet Demyx wasn't anywhere in sight. Not in the rooms, not in the chambers in which Xemnas and Saix had once performed experiments but now were content to let rot, not even in Luxord's faded old casino. Nowhere. He was now striding through Marluxia's dying garden, kicking aside the bramble that clawed at his ankles.

"_Demyx!" _he shouted.

He heard a little whimper. Alarmed, Zexion whirled around--to see Demyx cowering beneath a cracked stone bench, one of Vexen and Marluxia's favorites.

As Zexion strode towards Demyx, Demyx shrunk back. "What's the matter?" Zexion asked, keeping his tone as soothing as possible. "Come now, Demyx, you don't want to stay under there..."

"N-no, _no!" _Demyx wailed. "No, get away from me--stay away--_please_--"

"I won't hurt you," Zexion said.

"Yes! Yes, you _will!" _Demyx's voice was rising, hysterically so. "You will, you _will! _You've always hurt me, all the time, you're hurting me--I'm scared, Zexion, don't you get it, I'm scared of you--"

"Shh," Zexion said as soothingly as he could. "I promise you, I won't hurt you any longer."

"That's a lie! You always s-say that but you h-hurt me anyway." Demyx was sobbing now, curled up in a disconsolate ball. Unreachable. "I'm s-scared, y-you're scary, y-you hurt me..."

Zexion stood back, feeling numb, and knowing that every word Demyx said was true.

* * *

"Demyx! Where the hell are you, you idiot? You _said _you would be here!" Zexion shouted, kicking over one of Demyx's stacks of sheet music out of spite. But still. He'd gone through all this effort to wait for Demyx in Demyx's room--as they had _planned _for that night--and the singing moron hadn't shown up! There was something severely wrong with that.

"Idiot...you _promised_..." Zexion hissed, plopping down onto the bed. Now he didn't know what to do. He'd been waiting for over an hour already, but no Demyx.

A portal opened behind him; Zexion didn't need to turn around to know that it was Xaldin.

"Xaldin," Zexion said in an instant. "Where is Demyx?"

"Is that what you're doing here? Waiting for him?" There was a faint note of disgust to the older Nobody's voice. "If you really must know, he's outside. Giving an impromptu concert, it seems. Nothing you'd want to see."

But Zexion _did. _He stumbled towards the window, fumbled it open, leaned outside in the cold night air of The World That Never Was--and caught strains of Demyx's haunting sitar music, of his beautiful tenor voice, raised in a thrilling warble.

"_Our wrongs remain unrectified--"_

He was swaying, rocking out to his sitar--in front of a cheering and clapping Axel, Xigbar, and Luxord.

Zexion clutched the edge of the windowsill, something sick and cold tightening and twisting inside him, and realized at that moment how little he truly meant to Demyx.

* * *

It took Demyx several moments to realize that the floor beneath him wasn't the rough stone of the dungeon in which Zexion had been whipping him so cruelly, but rather the cold, smooth marble of the staircase. It took him another moment to realize that the pain throbbing in his back wasn't the severe burn of hundreds of whiplashes, but rather the more manageable ache of fading bruises left by the belt.

Tears were coursing freely down his face and he felt like he wanted nothing more than to retch. His fingers curled up over the marble, scrabbling at it for something solid, some surface to cling to--little whimpers were escaping his throat. It was an illusion, what had happened to him--but it felt so damnably _real._

_Am I really that afraid of Zexion? Deep down inside..._

"D...Demyx..." whispered a voice at once comfortably familiar and shockingly strange. It was Zexion's, but not at all like Demyx had heard him before. There was none of his cool and confident self-assurance; just a broken, miserable, and so terribly vulnerable quality. Barely daring to breathe, terrified of what he would see, Demyx looked up.

Into Zexion's eyes.

His lover was staring at him with the most painful expression Demyx had seen on anyone before--on Zexion, of all people, it was more frightening than anything. His eyes were wide and his mouth was trembling and his face was whiter than chalk, and--and tears were streaming down his cheeks.

"Oh, Demyx, Demyx," Zexion said, still in a broken whisper. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I--I had no idea--I really--"

"Zexion," was all Demyx could manage. His head was swimming; he couldn't believe any of this.

"I h-had no idea, I had no idea you were so--so afraid of me. I...I hurt you, didn't I? I..."

His voice rose to a squeak and cracked; he lowered his head, his fringe falling into his face and hiding his eyes from scrutiny. But not the trembling to his thin shoulders, not the little gasps and hiccups escaping his throat.

So strange. Usually in their relationship, it was Zexion comforting Demyx. But now...well, the tables had turned, and Demyx didn't protest that. Strangely, seeing Zexion so utterly miserable and guilty--seeing him cry--did more to banish Demyx's doubts than anything had before. Now he knew that the Zexion he was afraid of meant far less than the Zexion he loved. If Zexion had truly been the cruel creature Demyx had hallucinated him as, then he wouldn't have taken it as hard as this, would he have?

"It's okay, Zexion," Demyx whispered, wiping away his tears with one hand, and stroking Zexion's hair with the other. "It's okay, I know--I know you wouldn't hurt me. _I know. _I love you, that's a fact, I know it--even if--even if you do--even if you hurt me, sometimes. You wouldn't hurt me for real. And I...I'm sorry."

"What do you have to be sorry about?" Zexion said harshly, still keeping his head lowered, though he'd nestled closer to Demyx. "It was me, all me...always me..."

"No," Demyx said in a low murmur. "It wasn't you. That person--the you who hurt me--wasn't _you."_

"Ohh Demyx," Zexion groaned, shaking harder. "Why? Why are you so forgiving, you--"

Someone was singing, nearby. Singing a soft and pained song that did much to soothe Demyx's jangled nerves. "_Think of me...think of me fondly when we've said goodbye...remember me, once in a while please promise me you'll try..."_

The other Demyx, a few steps beneath them, knelt beside his Zexion; they had wrapped their arms around each other and the other Demyx was stroking his Zexion's hair much as Demyx was doing right now, and he was singing. He had quite a lovely voice, but he wasn't singing to show off; he was singing to comfort himself, to comfort his Zexion.

"_We never said our love was evergreen, or as unchanging as the sea...but if you can still remember, stop and think of me..."_

"Demyx, I'm sorry," whispered the other Zexion.

"If you're sorry, well, I'm double sorry," his Demyx replied, before humming the tune of the song for a few bars. "We've got to try now, both of us. 'Cause we now know, don't we? We know... _Think of all the things we've said and seen--don't think about the way things might have been..."_

He stood up, hauling his Zexion up with him; it struck Demyx right then how much the other one _did _love his Zexion. He kept an arm around his Zexion's shoulder, keeping him steady, and smiled down on him with such tenderness that Demyx felt something ache in that space where his heart had once been. The tears blurred in his vision again and he let them fall, not bothering to wipe them away.

He'd been wrong. He and Zexion weren't perfect--and the other two weren't fundamentally flawed. He saw that now. It was humbling, and it was beautiful.

"_Think of me, think of me waking silent and resigned," _the other Demyx was singing, still gently, as he guided his Zexion up the stairs with him. "_Imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind..."_

"Wh-what...what _was _that?" hissed Zexion, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. His lips were still trembling and he was still unhealthily pale; Demyx placed an encouraging hand on his shoulder, causing Zexion to blink and stare at him in alarm.

"I dunno," Demyx said, "but I think that was the master of the world. Screwing with our minds...sending us a message..."

"I hate to admit that..." Zexion paused a bit, that pained and tender expression returning to his face. It took Demyx's breath away. "I hate to admit that...the message may have been...sorely needed."

"Zexion, it's okay," Demyx said with a smile, taking Zexion's slender hands in his. "Don't change the way you are."

"All the same, perhaps I have been...too forward," Zexion said, the faint ghost of a smile flashing across his face.

Demyx could have died in love right then. He didn't think he'd ever loved Zexion so much before, never would love Zexion more. Of course he'd always loved his beautiful Zexion, his angel and devil and master--but all the same, he'd felt a slight discontent. The fear that Zexion didn't _really _care about him, that he was just messing around with Demyx's mind...but now he knew. He knew that Zexion was willing to change--somewhat, neither wanted to lose the darkness inherent to their relationship--and that, that was...if that wasn't a sign that he truly loved Demyx, then Demyx didn't know what was.

"Thanks, you bastard," he whispered to the sky, to the master of the world, offering her his most hateful smile.

He hadn't intended for anyone to hear, but it seemed the other Zexion had, because, stomping forward, clinging tightly to his Demyx's hand, he snapped, "Thank her indeed. She will not escape unscathed for this, I promise."

"The point of no return," his Demyx said with a sad little laugh. "You scared, Zexy?"

"Not at all," the other Zexion snapped. "Well? Are you going to invite us in? Or must we be rude guests and break down your door?"

At first, Demyx didn't know what he was going on about--but then, turning so that he was staring directly ahead, he saw that the staircase ended only about ten steps above them. And at the end of the staircase was...a grand manor, pure white in color and classical in style, lined with columns and statues of young men clad in elegantly swirling marble robes. It was telling that Demyx didn't look twice when he saw the statues bore his and Zexion's faces.

This must be it. The lair of the master of the world.

"_You four are far more resilient than I give you credit for," _came the voice of the master of the world, as serene as ever yet layered with some level of impatience. "_Still, I will succeed. Only two of you may leave. That is an unshakable law and that will never change."_

"Say whatever you want," Demyx shouted, rage unfurling like a sail inside him. "That doesn't make it true! All of us are getting outta here alive, got it?"

"Demyx..." Zexion said, looking stricken. Demyx flashed him a brief smile--which Zexion returned with the ghost of a smirk. Yet that smirk, however brief it'd been, was enough to incongruously delight Demyx. It was so damnably familiar, after all--Zexion's "I'm going to have to punish you later for this, you bad boy" smirk.

"_My, my, such defiance. Then come for me. Just try to defeat me in my own realm. The realm of infinite possibility!"_

The doors swung open--and blinding light flooded the staircase.

* * *

Seme!Dem seems to really like his musicals. But that's okay because "Defying Gravity" and "Think of Me" are great songs. I like Emmy Rossum's "Think of Me" better; I know that Sarah Brightman is technically a better singer, but IDK, Emmy's voice appeals to me more.

"Our wrongs remain unrectified" is a line from Muse's amazing "Sing For Absolution." It actually connects to one of my Organization project songfics, which was a Zemyx fic written to "Sing For Absolution." I don't know why, but that song strikes me as so very Zemyx-y.

Finally, I don't hate rap nearly as much as Demyx does. ~_^ Actually, I do hate most of it, but I make some exceptions. Namely, ROW ROW FIGHT THE POWAH!!! And I am of the firm opinion that Linkin Park was better when there was more rapping in their songs.

First non-music related comment--finally seme!Zex is showing a bit more of a vulnerable side. Out of all the characters, I have to say I like him the least (though I don't hate any of them), so it's a relief to write him in a different (i.e., less smarmy) way. I'll have more in depth thoughts on all the characters in the chapter ten ending note.

Don't forget to review!


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